


Sweet Star of Mine

by Chiyume, Huntress79



Category: Captain America (Comics), Captain America (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Actors, Alternate Universe - Theatre, Douchebag Justin Hammer, F/M, Famous Natasha, Fist Fights, Fluff and Angst and Smut, Minor Violence, Mutual Pining, Paparazzi, Past Sexual Assault, Secret Relationship, Sex, Stagehand Bucky, Strangers to Lovers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-19
Updated: 2019-06-19
Packaged: 2020-05-14 03:05:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 33,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19264669
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Chiyume/pseuds/Chiyume, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79/pseuds/Huntress79
Summary: Bucky is working as a stagehand at the local theater where a charity project is being held in the form of a show that features stars from the theater world as well as the movies. That's how Bucky Barnes meets Natasha Romanoff.Being starstruck, Bucky can't help being drawn to the famous actress. And perhaps it's just his own wishfull thinking, but it does seem like Natasha's being partial to his company as well...In a world where a rumor can end a career, and a single picture can turn a life upside down, can two worlds colliding survive the impact to live another day?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by the **[artwork](https://archiveofourown.org/works/19275961)** done by the amazing: [Huntress79](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Huntress79)  
>    
> Beta by [Lillaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/lillaby/profile) and [Gavilan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gavilan)
> 
> Thank you so, so much, it's been a pleasure to work with all of you! <3

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/e7/e3/7DGYi9oj_o.jpg)

*********************

[ ](http://imgbox.com/UyMOlBeI)

Bucky is helping Wanda carry art supplies to the backstage area when they arrive. He manages to turn his head towards the door at the exact moment it opens, and Fury walks through with a group of people following close behind. Two steps later, Bucky freezes, his jaw dropping down to where his feet have seemingly been nailed to the stage.

He had known that they were expecting the actors today—preparing for this production has been the only thing on the theater’s agenda for the past month—and yet, he had obviously not prepared himself enough. Because when _she_ walks through the door, all he can do is stare.

Natasha Romanoff is even more beautiful in real life than she is on the big screen. Her copper red hair lights up the group like a beacon, and even from a distance, he can hear her laugh and see her smile towards the other members of the group. Without warning, something hits him from behind with a startled _oomph_ and sends him stumbling.

“Hey, don’t just stop like that!” Wanda berates him while struggling to not drop the rolls of canvas in her arms. She probably had been too busy trying to hold onto them to see him stop. Bucky throws a guilty glance towards the group by the door, mouth open to start an apology, but Wanda follows his line of sight and beats him to it.

“Oh,” she drawls amusedly. “Got distracted by something, did we?”

“No, no, I was just—”

“Forget it, Romeo,” Wanda cuts him off and gives his arm a playful bump with her elbow as she walks past him. “She’s way out of your league.”

“A man can dream, can’t he?” Bucky counters, hoisting his big box of paint and brushes before following her.

“He sure can,” Wanda agrees. She drops her canvases down by the left wing of the stage and straightens up while Bucky sets down his box of supplies with a low groan.

“Hey,” Wanda says. “You wanna go introduce yourself?”

“What, right now?” Bucky’s stomach makes a nervous somersault at the thought.

“You wanna let Thor beat you to it?” she counters pointedly. “He’s been out back working on the frames for the new stage flats all morning. He’s probably shirtless by now too.”

Thankfully, Bucky doesn’t have to answer that question, because Wanda starts walking toward the front steps of the stage and Bucky wastes no time in following her.

“This theater is actually one of the oldest in Brooklyn,” Bucky hears Fury say just as the people in the group notice their approach. One of the men makes a loud, surprised noise, eyebrows arching.

“Wanda?” he asks in disbelief, spreading his arms out wide, and in turn, Wanda walks right up to him with a beaming smile as she allows herself to be embraced.

“Long time no see,” she half-laughs against his shoulder. “How was Budapest?”

“Oh, you know,” the man says with a shrug as he lets her go. “European.” He looks her up and down. “Man, I almost didn’t recognize you. You grew your hair out.”

“Well, _it_ grew,” Wanda replies. “I just haven’t felt the need to cut it yet.” She then turns around towards Bucky who’s been standing a little to the side, not really sure of what to do next. “Bucky,” she says, “this is Clint Barton. We worked together in Sokovia.”

“A pleasure to meet you,” Bucky says, stepping forward with his hand out in greeting. “Bucky Barnes.”

“Clint,” Barton replies. Not that Bucky would’ve needed the introduction. Clint Barton is a well-known name in the theater world.

Meanwhile, Clint has turned around towards the rest of the group. “Everyone,” he announces, “this is Wanda Maximoff. She’s the one who painted the custom backdrops for the production of _Moulin Rouge_ in Sokovia.”

The people in the group take turns greeting Wanda, shaking hands and giving polite smiles, along with more than a few compliments on her work. Bucky follows suit. He’s already met the writer and director of the play, Phil Coulson, who visited the theater five weeks earlier to give instructions for the stage setup.

The production is part of a charity event to raise money for the homeless in New York City, with famous actors coming in to work together, adding publicity for the project. Bucky recognises all of them—Steve Rogers, Sam Wilson, Maria Hill, Jane Foster—but his attention is focused on one person and one person only.

When his hand clasps around Natasha’s, his heart gives a hard thump inside his chest. Her eyes are the most amazing shade of hazel green, and when he meets them, her lips quirk up in a soft smile.

“Natasha,” she says, leaving out her last name. Not that Bucky needs it.

“Bucky,” he replies, doing the same. “I’ve been looking forward to meeting you.”

“Oh?” she says. “How come?”

The question catches Bucky off guard. He had said it thinking she would most likely brush it off like a standard greeting. To be asked to elaborate hadn’t really been part of his plan.

“Uh.., I…” he stammers, blinking. God, he must come off like a total idiot, but Natasha simply gives him a dazzling smile.

“I’m just teasing you,” she assures him. “A nasty habit I can’t seem to quit.”

“That’s all right,” Bucky replies, not really thinking about what he’s saying. “I wasn’t serious anyway.”

The moment the words leave his mouth he wants to smack himself in the face, but to his relief, Natasha just laughs, a clear, joyful sound that goes straight to his head like bubbles of champagne.

“You’re a funny one,” she says. “I look forward to working with you.”

“Likewise,” Bucky manages. In return, Natasha sends him a final smile, and then she’s gone, following Fury’s group down the length of the stage towards the maintenance door. Bucky watches her go, unaware that he’s staring until Wanda gives his chin a flick.

“You’re drooling,” she reprimands, and Bucky quickly closes his mouth.

“Can you blame me?” he mutters.

Wanda shrugs. “Not really. She is very pretty.”

“An understatement,” Bucky says with a snort while sending a longing glance at the closing maintenance door. “She’s the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. After you, that is,” he adds quickly when Wanda raises an eyebrow at him.

“Drop it, Casanova,” she says, although Bucky can hear the smile in her voice as she slaps her hand against his shoulder. “Now come help me with the backdrop before you literally begin to swoon.”

 

/\/\/\

 

Two days after the arrival of the rest of the cast, Justin Hammer makes his grand entrance at the theater.

Bucky’s outside, tossing trash bags into the dumpster at the far end of the parking lot, when a matte black Porsche pulls into the courtyard. The engine rumbles to a halt as the driver turns off the ignition, and Bucky watches the door open to reveal a blond head and a pair of thick, black-rimmed hipster-style sunglasses.

The man shuts the car door and then gestures for Bucky to come closer. He doesn’t make eye contact, and Bucky’s not quite sure what to make of the guy as he warily obliges. The stranger is wearing a tailored grey suit, shiny leather shoes, and a blue tie that’s held in place with a shiny silver tie clip, adorned with what appears to be a single blue gemstone.

Bucky doesn’t have time to ask who the man is or what he wants, because before he’s close enough to ask without shouting, the man throws something at him. Bucky catches the object mid-air with both hands, hearing it jingle as it makes impact with his palms.

“Be a sport and park this, will ya,” the man shouts, his back already turned as he begins to walk towards the front door of the building. Bucky looks down at the car keys in his hands, blinking in surprise, and then at himself. He’s dressed in jeans and a white t-shirt sporting the Pizza Planet logo from _Toy Story_. To be fair, it doesn’t give off the kind of trustful vibe that’s normally associated with handling what appears to be a multi-million-dollar car.

“Hey,” Bucky starts, jogging after the stranger. “I’m sorry, but I’m not—”

“And be careful with the paintjob,” the man says over his shoulder, “or it’s coming out of your salary.”

Bucky’s confusion is immediately swallowed by a sharp spark of indignation. He rapidly follows the man up the front steps and just barely avoids getting the door slammed in his face as he hurries through it to let the asshole know he can go park is own damn car. However, just as he enters the ticket hall, another voice stops him in his tracks.

“Mr. Hammer, a pleasure to have you with us!”

It makes Bucky hesitate. Mr. Hammer? As in Justin Hammer, the actor?

Fury, who was the one to greet the stranger, approaches them both from the other side of the room. Mr. Hammer, however, doesn’t seem impressed.

“It’s a damn miracle I even made it here in the first place,” he quips testily. “The instructions you sent me were impossible to follow.”

“Apologies,” Fury replies, albeit with a slightly frostier tone than before. “The others told me they had no problem getting here, so I assumed—”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever.” Justin throws a glance over his shoulder at Bucky. “You still here? I thought I told you to go park my car.”

Bucky drags in a breath, but before he has a chance to answer, Fury interrupts him.

“I’m sure James here will take care of your car for you.”

Bucky frowns, but the look in Fury's eye stops him from objecting. It's not a common thing for Fury to allow anyone to speak to him or his employees in such a tone. Practically unheard of, in fact, and that's what makes Bucky realize that there has to be more than common courtesy at stake here.

“Of course,” he says. “I just… I just wanted to know where to find you afterward? You know, to return the keys.”

For a moment, Justin appears to be deciding whether that’s a fair request or Bucky just being an annoyance. Then, landing on the former rather than the latter, he gives a low huff under his breath while waving his hand toward the general vicinity of the theater as a whole.

“I’ll be in the back somewhere,” he says. “Or onstage. You’ll find me.”

It’s a spectacularly useless piece of information that leaves Bucky even more convinced that as far as celebrities go, this one’s a first-class asshole. He doesn’t voice either of those thoughts, however, as he turns to head back the way he came. He gives Fury a quizzical glance as he does, but Fury’s face is a blank slate. Whatever reasons he has to give Hammer such leeway, he’s keeping them to himself.

The car is, without a doubt, the most luxurious thing Bucky has ever been in contact with. The leather sport seats are snug and more comfortable than most couches, and the dashboard is sleek and filled with so many dials and switches it’s like sitting in a super-spy car. It starts up with a soft purr from a simple press of a button, and as he grips the steering wheel, Bucky is struck by the insane impulse to just skid out of the parking lot and go for a joyride.

He doesn’t. Because he’s not crazy. But it’s tempting nonetheless.

Once he’s parked the car, locked it, and returned inside, he goes to hunt down Justin. It proves to be easier than he thought, since Bucky can hear him through the doors to the mainstage area, despite their being closed. And he doesn’t sound happy.

Bucky sighs and sends a silent curse to the ceiling, mentally bracing himself for another exposure of stupid as he reaches for the door.

“So he got you to park his car, huh?”

Startled, Bucky whirls around to find Natasha sitting on one of the benches next to the coat room. She’s wearing an expensive-looking cobalt blue halterneck jumpsuit, with a thin golden chain for a belt. The curls of her hair look like fire compared the cool shade of her clothing. And she looks amused.

“Uh, yeah,” Bucky confesses. He quickly clears a burgeoning squeak from his throat as he looks down at the key in his hand. “Or rather, Fury did. It didn’t feel like the right time to argue.”

“A wise decision,” Natasha agrees. “Justin’s in quite the mood today.”

Bucky nods. He waits for her to continue, but she doesn’t. Instead, she eyes him up and down with that same amused expression on her face, hazel eyes sharp and attentive. It makes Bucky horribly aware of the childish print on his t-shirt, and he suddenly wishes he’d gone for something more professional while rummaging through his closet this morning.

“You’re not so talkative today,” Natasha says eventually. “Is something wrong?”

“No,” Bucky says quickly. “No, not at all.”

“Glad to hear it,” Natasha replies. She pats her hand gently on the empty seat next to her. “Then perhaps you would like to join me?”

Bucky tries to look unaffected as he does as prompted and sits down next to her, his heart doing the conga in his chest.

“So,” Natasha says, turning more fully toward him once he’s seated. “Let me guess. Justin pulled into the parking lot in his big black car, tossed you the keys, and warned you that any scratch on it would come out of your paycheck. Am I close?”

“Spot on, I’d say,” Bucky agrees.

“Yeah, I wouldn't worry to much about it,” Natasha says. “He always does that on his first day at a new place. It’s his own narcissistic way of establishing dominance.”

“Really?” Bucky asks.

“Oh, yeah,” Natasha says while nodding somberly. “You should’ve seen him on the set of _Pink Flamingo_. It was one of his first big movies, and he ran his poor assistant into the wall with his ridiculous demands. Bastard,” she adds dryly.

“He doesn’t sound very pleasant to work with,” Bucky agrees. He glances at her. “I get the feeling you’re not exactly one of his biggest fans?”

Natasha laughs, shaking her head. “Not by a long shot,” she says. “But I can’t let what I think of him as a person get in the way of doing my job. If I were to rule out my colleagues based on their personalities, I’d be out of work in less than a year.”

“Oh, c’mon, surely Hollywood can’t be that bad?”

“Depends on which part of it you mean,” Nat clarifies. “The actors aren’t bad. In fact, most of them are great. The agents, however, and the publicists…” She shudders dramatically. “You better pick your friends carefully, or you’ll never know where you might end up.”

“Sound advice.”

“I’d like to think so.” Natasha smiles at him, and Bucky’s toes immediately curl up inside his boots. As she shifts her weight, her leg gently brushes against his, and Bucky fights down the impulse to reach out and put his hand on her knee. Ridiculous. Dangerous. Just like the thought of stealing the car had been absurd. But no less enticing.

He looks up, meeting her eye just as the doors to the auditorium open and Justin walks through. He’s still being as loud as ever, and it’s hard to tell whether or not he’s upset or simply inspired, waving a manuscript in his hands and pointing it in every possible direction. Behind him, Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson are following at a distance. Neither of them looks impressed.

“And who’s idea was it to use a _soliloquy_ during the final act?” Justin declares to the other two, obviously thinking that they share his opinion. “That’s such a rookie thing to do, am I right?”

“Actually, that someone would be me,” Natasha says loudly from her seat. Immediately, the three actors stop in their tracks. However, only the two in the rear seem happy to see her. Justin, on the other hand, looks like he just swallowed an entire jar of pickles.

“Oh, so you’re here already,” he observes.

“Of course,” Natasha replies cooly. “I’ve been here since Monday. You know, the day we were _supposed_ to arrive?”’

Behind Justin’s back, the handsome blond, Steve Rogers—renowned actor on both screen and stage—hides a snicker behind his hand, and Bucky ducks his head to cover up his own growing grin. Natasha’s expression remains firm as she continues to meet Justin’s glare until he manages to accomplish a grimace that in his head surely counts as a smile.

“Cute,” he comments. Straightening his jacket, he turns to the two actors behind him with a curt, “See you guys at the press meet and greet.” And with that, he marches through the lobby towards the exit. Bucky moves to get up, keys in his hand and mouth open to call Justin back, but before he can Natasha grabs him by the shoulder and stops him.

“Hold on,” she says just as Justin disappears through the front door. “This could be fun.”

Sure enough, three seconds later, Justin Hammer walks back in, his jaw set as he stomps across the room and up to their bench.

“Forget something?” Natasha asks sweetly.

“Very funny,” Justin mutters. He holds his hand out toward Bucky with a demanding beckoning of his fingers. “Come on!”

Bucky doesn’t give him the keys as much as Justin yanks them out of his hand before stomping off again. As the front door slams shut behind him for the second time, Natasha breaks out in a delighted giggle, closely followed by the muffled chuckles of Rogers and Wilson.

“Natasha Romanoff,” Wilson says between laughs, coming over. “Glad to see you’re vicious as ever.”

“I’d say he had it coming,” Rogers cuts in. “It’s not like Justin’s changed his attitude over the years.”

“Ain’t that the truth,” Wilson mutters. “I swear, if I had to listen to him say _verisimilitude_ one more time, I would’ve kicked him out the door myself.”

The line makes Natasha laugh again, and Bucky can’t help but sneak a peek at her. Bright eyes, red lips, a stray lock of hair caressing her cheek…

“Hey,” Rogers says suddenly. “You’re Bucky, right? We met the other day.”

“We did,” Bucky replies. As if shaking hands with one of the most famous people on the planet would be something you’d forget. “You’re Steven Rogers.”

“Just Steve,” Steve corrects. “And this guy here is Sam.”

“Just Sam,” Wilson says with a cautioning finger pointed Bucky’s way. “You start calling me Sammy, I’mma kick your ass.”

“Be nice,” Natasha scolds softly. She rubs her palm up and down Bucky’s arm, which Bucky can’t help but notice she’s still holding onto. “He might not share our kind of humor.”

“Hey,” Bucky quips, before he can stop himself. “If this scrawny guy thinks he can kick my ass, I say let him try.”

For a moment, all three of them go completely silent, staring at him. Then Steve raises an eyebrow at Nat, who smirks back. And then Sam bursts out laughing as he shakes his finger at Bucky again. “You know, I think I might like this one,” he declares.

Bucky feels like he’s stepped into some sort of bizarre daydream. Amere mortal surrounded by titans. One of whom still has a gentle grip on his arm. Which is a good thing because his palms are sweaty as hell right now.

“Are you going to be working with us on the production?” Steve asks curiously.

“Uh, yeah.” Bucky clears his throat and straightens up. “I’m working as a stagehand along with Wanda, among others.”

“Oh, Barton’s friend,” Sam comments.

“Yeah, the one with the amazing eyes.” Natasha sighs wistfully. “Honestly, I’d murder for eyes like hers.”

“Why?” Bucky asks, confused. “Your eyes are gorgeous.”

“Aw, thank you.” She smiles at him, and Bucky feels his stomach tie itself into a exhilarated knot as she adds, “Your eyes are very pretty too.”

Bucky makes a noise. He’s not exactly sure what kind, but it makes Natasha’s smile widen even further. Next to them, Steve turns away with a discreet cough into his fist that Bucky barely hears and Natasha clearly ignores.

“Uh, Nat,” Sam says. “Not to be rude to our new friend here, but we need to get going.”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “We’ve got that press-thing at ten. Loki’s already waiting for us at the venue, and you know Coulson’s gonna freak out if we’re late.”

Natasha sighs, dramatically rolling her eyes. Then she gives Bucky’s arm a gentle squeeze as she stands up. “Sorry,” she says with a lingering touch to his arm that makes the hairs there stand at attention. “Duty calls.”

“No worries,” Bucky promises. “Really.”

“See you around, Buck,” Steve says. He leans in and pats Bucky’s shoulder, but then he halts, frowning. “Is it okay if I call you that?” he asks, sounding genuinely worried that he’d just done something offensive. “It just slipped out.”

“It’s perfectly fine,” Bucky assures him with a chuckle. “Makes it sound like we’re best friends or something.”

“Well, we’re gonna be working together for quite some time,” Steve says. “Who knows what’ll happen.”

“I think we’ll get along just fine,” Natasha says with another smile.

“I hope so,” Bucky replies earnestly. He still feels lightheaded from the sudden attention, along with being referred to as a friend by all three of them. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to get up and shake their hands before they leave, but none of them seem interested in such a gesture. They all give him a nod and casual wave as they move toward the exit, and Bucky reciprocates accordingly.

“Catch you later, stagehand,” Sam throws over his shoulder as the trio reaches the front doors.

“Sure thing, Sammy,” Bucky calls back. It’s a bold move, but it pays off, because it makes both Steve and Natasha laugh and causes Sam to tip his head to the ceiling with a low groan of defeat.

“I suppose I really should’ve seen that one coming,” Bucky hears him mutter as they step through the door. And just like that, Bucky’s alone on the bench, sitting in an empty lobby, with the phantom touch of Natasha’s fingertips still lingering on his skin.

 

/\/\/\

 

Turns out, the other actors’ dislike for Justin Hammer was justified, to say the least. A week after his arrival at the theater, Bucky’s ready to lock Justin inside the trunk of his own sports car and throw away the key. The man is insufferable! He prances around like he owns the place, talking like the entire project circles around him and him only. He’s making life difficult for everyone, on stage as well as behind it, he pokes his spectacle-clad nose into whatever he can, meddling in everything from the lighting cues, to the blocking onstage, to the color of the props. Poor Wanda had to re-paint an entire backdrop simply because it “didn’t deliver the right emotion for the scene.” Whatever that means.

In Bucky’s opinion, a good actor can set the mood of a scene independently of the surrounding environment. Justin Hammer doesn’t seem to agree.

The play, which revolves around the story of a wealthy, vain young woman who believes that good looks and charisma are the only things you need to get far in life and a homeless man she takes in to win a bet with her best friend, is simple. A Pretty Woman story with the roles reversed, if you may. Natasha Romanoff and Justin Hammer are in the lead roles as the wealthy woman and the homeless man, while Steve Rogers plays the best friend with whom the woman makes her bet. The other actors have different supporting roles, and not one of them can escape Justin’s ego.

They tend to stay out of Justin’s way most of the time, though, but Bucky suspects that’s more about Justin’s own physical safety than their not having the guts to face him. Steve and Sam aren’t exactly delicate, and there’s no secret that Maria, Jane, and Natasha could kick Justin’s ass six ways ‘til Sunday should they want to. Most likely, they all share Natasha’s opinion that staying professional is more important than catering to their own feelings on the situation.

The show’s stage manager Bruce Banner on the other hand, looks just about ready to either break into tears or break his laptop over Justin’s head whenever he’s within reach from all the ridiculous things the man wants purchased or re-done.

Their tinker-happy technical manager Tony Stark treats the movie star the same way he does everyone: like an annoyance. Bucky thinks this might be the first time the attitude’s actually perfectly justified. Meanwhile, Pepper has made an infinite number of changes to Justin’s wardrobe since he first found his way to the costume department backstage, - taking in jackets, switching out shoes and accessories until they’ve gone through the theater’s entire inventory. He only leaves her alone when Pepper threatens to put him in a flowery dress and high heels, and even then he does so under loud protests.

The only one he doesn’t seem willing to go toe-to-toe with is Thor, but Bucky’s not sure if that’s because the carpenter’s biceps are about the same size of Justin’s head or because Thor and Loki are brothers. No actor is stupid enough to mess with their publicist’s next of kin, not even Justin.

Peter, their young apprentice stagehand, is really the one getting the brunt of things. The kid had been starstruck the moment he spotted Steve Rogers on stage, and he’s been following the guy around like a puppy ever since. Steve, on his end, appears to adore Peter, and it’s clear that Justin’s ego can’t handle seeing someone else with a fan while he himself is getting completely ignored. He uses every excuse he can to have Peter run errands for him, be it getting him lunch or making sure his water bottle is always topped up. It actually reaches the point where Coulson has to remind Justin that Peter actually has a job to do and can’t double-time as a personal assistant.

There’s not a single person, staff, actor, or otherwise, who actually enjoys having the man in the production. Unfortunately, Fury seems perfectly willing to let Justin have free rein to do what he pleases, to everyone’s growing frustration. Word is that Justin is one of the biggest names of the show, and they need him for the publicity. Which doesn’t make much sense to Bucky seeing as they have several world famous actors to fall back on, but he’s not the one in charge. Press and sales are Loki’s department, and if he tells Fury that they need Hammer, then that’s probably true.

It’s not all bad at the theater though. Working with new people is always fun, and having an entire company of exclusively acclaimed actors only adds to the thrill. Apart from Mr. Toolshed himself, they’re all pleasant to be around, and Bucky’s happy that both Steve and Sam seem to have been serious about categorising him as a friend.

Sam keeps making up nicknames for him. Most of them have some sort of play on the word ‘stagehand,’ or just ‘hand,’ but sometimes Sam drags Bucky’s entire arms into the mix. Bucky knows that his arms are pretty muscular—one needs strength to move set pieces around all day—but Sam’s taking things to a whole new level. Steve gets his fair share as well; for some reason Sam keeps calling him ‘Cap,’ which turns out to be the nickname of the character Steve played when he and Sam first met. The two of them go way back, it seems.

As the first week goes by, and relationships are forming all over the place. Pepper and Wanda seem to get along well with Natasha, Maria, and Jane, even though Wanda is often seen hanging around Clint.

Another person who appears to have taken a liking to the newcomers is Thor. Of course, Thor is friendly to practically anyone who’s not a complete dickhead, but it’s fairly obvious that this is… slightly different. Undoubtedly, Jane Foster is a very beautiful woman, and Thor is just as undoubtedly of that very same opinion. Bucky actually catches the precise moment when Jane’s entrance on stage one day causes Thor to hit himself over the thumb with his own hammer while working on the set with Peter. He can’t blame the man, he understands the sentiment perfectly, but that doesn’t make it any less hilarious to witness.

The only person who doesn't seem to give a rat’s ass about the newcomers is Tony. He keeps his same old “I’m smarter than you” attitude, which is normally more than justified, if rude. Something one Steve Rogers appears dead set on letting Tony know.  

At first, it looks like things might get nasty, but it doesn’t take long before the two’s arguing and bickering turns into nothing but background noise. Soon it becomes clear that they’re actually both enjoying themselves immensely. Tony calls Steve witty names just to vex him, and Steve retorts in kind by insulting Tony’s bad sense of humor. They gravitate towards each other, and no matter the topic, they always manage to find a way to get into lengthy discussions about it, as well as each other. It’s quite amusing, once you figure out what’s really going on.

One afternoon, Bucky’s standing by in the wings, looking at them loudly discussing the setup of what’s going to be a fire barrel. Tony apparently wants to use real fire, while Steve opts for the safer option of flickering lights. Bucky’s standing there, watching Steve gesture to the ceiling above them at the same time that Tony points to the fire extinguisher he’s holding, when Natasha suddenly comes over to lean against the wall next to him.

“Hey,” she greets cheerfully. It comes so suddenly, Bucky is left gaping for a moment before he catches himself.

“Hi,” he replies. She smiles at him, but meeting her gaze for more than a second is impossible. Bucky looks down at his shoes, but Natasha doesn’t turn away. She continues to eye him up and down for a moment before taking in a breath, pausing for a moment, and…

“Do I make you nervous?” she asks curiously.

“Yes,” Bucky answers. There’s no point in lying. He’s horrible at it anyway.

“Oh,” Natasha says, albeit without any sort of remorse. “Perhaps you’d like me to leave you alone, then?”

“No,” Bucky replies, this time even faster. Too fast for it to be casual. Natasha doesn’t seem to mind it though, if she even noticed.

“Good,” she says. She then shifts her attention to where Steve and Tony are still arguing and smirks. “It’s cute, isn’t it?” she asks. “The way they tip-toe around each other?”

“You call _that_ tip-toeing? They sound like they’re ten seconds away from a fist fight.”

“Exactly,” Natasha retorts. “God knows they’re dying for an excuse to get physical.” She sighs, squinting. “I give them three weeks before they hook up. Tops.”

“Nah,” Bucky says. “Tony doesn’t have the patience to wait that long.”

“He’s that impatient, huh?”

“You have no idea. Once he gets his mind set on something…”

“Sounds like he’s in for a challenge, then. Steve’s not the kind who likes to rush.”

“A match made in heaven.” Bucky braves a smile at her and feels his pulse quicken when she smiles back.

God, she’s so beautiful…

“So,” Bucky says with a nod towards the two men on stage, “you’ve seen a lot of this then? Coworkers getting… physical?”

“Many times,” Natasha gravely. “It ends up either amazing or disastrous. There’s seldom an in-between.”

“Is that from personal experience?” The question slips out before he can stop it, and he quickly puts his hand up. “Sorry,” he says. “Sorry, that was incredibly inappropriate and insensitive of me.”

“No, don’t worry about it,” Natasha says. “I mean, almost everyone in the business has had some sort of fling with another actor. It’s not a strange thing to assume.” She sighs, lip pouting slightly. “Unfortunately, I have to disappoint you. All the dating I’ve done with colleagues has been in the tabloids and nowhere else.”

“All gossip for selling copies, you mean?”

“Exactly like that.” Natasha leans in closer, lowering her voice. “Can you keep a secret?” she whispers conspiratorially.

“Yeah. Yes, of course,” Bucky says, leaning in closer when Natasha beckons him to do so.

“You know,” she whispers, “the papers even had a story about me and Justin once. Can you imagine? Me and him?”

“To be honest, I’d rather not,” Bucky replies just as quietly. It’s a reply that makes Natasha laugh.

“I know,” she half-squeaks. “Some paparazzi got a shot of us sharing what was published as ‘a moment of public affection’ and the whole thing exploded.” She shakes her head, rolling her eyes. “Of course, the only intimate thing about it was that he slipped his hand under my skirt as we stepped out of the studio, and someone managed to get it on camera.”

“You mean he assaulted you?”

Natasha blinks at his sudden shift in tone. “Well… He groped me _,_ ” she says. “I didn’t exactly invite him or anything.”

“Isn’t that the same thing, then?” Bucky prompts. He can feel his muscles begins to tense up. “He grabbed you, in public no less, and it got written off like some… some—”

“Hey,” Natasha says gently, putting her hand on his arm. “It’s okay. It was a long time ago.”

“Doesn’t matter,” Bucky argues under his breath, even though the cool touch of Natasha’s fingertips has him relaxing somewhat. He looks at her. “What did you do? When he did that, I mean?”

“Smiled,” Natasha says. “And then I leaned in and told him if he ever did that again, I’d chop his hand off. One finger at a time.”

“Good.” Bucky lets out a tightly held breath. His mouth feels dry, and he has to force himself to relax his jaw.

“He didn’t touch me again,” Natasha assures him. “Although we were encouraged to keep up the act of being involved until after the movie had been shot. Our agents figured a hinted-but-never-confirmed breakup right before the premiere would make for some great publicity, so that’s what we went for.”

“I’m so sorry,” Bucky says. “That must’ve been awful.”

“I was young. It was my first movie.” Natasha shrugs. “It gave my career a massive boost. Can’t say I’d do it again, though.”

“You shouldn’t even have to consider it. No one should.”

Natasha looks at him, and there’s something soft in her eyes when she meets his gaze. “You’re sweet,” she says. “I like that.”

“Thanks.” Bucky feels the heat rise on his cheeks as he brings his hand up to scratch at his neck. “Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

“Why did you take this job? I mean, knowing you’re both in lead roles… Knowing you’d have to work so closely with him…”

Natasha nods. “I can understand that it seems like an odd choice. I mean, who’d want to work with someone they share such a past with, right? But like I told you the other day, I can’t afford to let personal things affect my career. I have to stay professional, and to tell you the truth, I’m not about to let a man with a toddler tantrum mentality hold me back from doing what I love.” She shrugs again. “No lie, it makes for some tense moments, but I can handle it.”

“I’m glad you’re not letting it affect you,” Bucky admits. “Fuck knows I could never have handled it that well.”

He feels Natasha squeeze his arm. “It’s all right,” she says. “I’m a big girl. And it did teach me a valuable lesson about the trade, so…”

“What lesson?”

“Never date a colleague,” Natasha replies flatly, and Bucky nods, even though he feels his hopes deflate slightly.

“That sounds smart,” he manages. “Good strategy.”

Again, Natasha smiles at him, and with one final squeeze, she removes her hand from his arm. “What about you?” she asks. “When’s the last time you went on a date?”

“Uh, me?” Bucky stammers. “Oh, that was a very, very long time ago.”

“How come?” Natasha asks with a slight tilt of the head. “Broken heart? Fear of rejection?”

“I honestly don’t know,” Bucky admits. “I just haven’t given it too much thought, I guess. I mean, dating for the sake of it and not because you actually want to, feels… I don’t know what it feels like, but it’s not good. It’s not what I want.”

“You want it to matter,” Natasha finishes for him and Bucky nods.

“Yeah.”

“Well, that’s as honorable as it gets, I suppose.” Natasha folds her arms over her chest. “So what is it you’re looking for then? Girl, guy, both, neither?”

Bucky chuckles, ducking his head. “Uh, a woman, actually,” he says, and then, in a spur of the moment boldness, he adds, “You happen to know anyone who’s free?”

“Maybe,” Natasha replies easily. “If you think you’re okay dating someone in show-biz after everything I just said?”

“I think I can manage,” Bucky says. “I mean, _you’re_ not that bad.”

“Smooth talker,” Natasha says with a smirk. Then she sighs and looks towards the end of the stage. “I suppose I better go find Justin. We still have scenes to read, and he’s been off doing whatever all day.” She gives him a little bump with her elbow. “It was nice talking to you.”

“You too.”

“I’ll see you around, okay?”

“Yeah.” Bucky quickly straightens up. “Absolutely.”

It’s almost frightening, to stand there and have her smile that radiant smile at him. It makes him scared of his own imagination, and how much he would like to read into the conversation that just transpired. But he shouldn’t. Mustn't. Holy crap, his heart is beating so hard.

As Bucky watches Natasha walk away from him with an odd sense of deja vû, he draws a deep breath for the first time in what feels like an hour. He’s not dumb. He’s well aware that she’s slowly wrapping him around her little finger; for what purpose, he doesn’t really care.

In fact, he can’t wait for her to come back and do it again.

 

/\/\/\

As the weeks pass, the production’s work on the play continues. Everyone’s working hard, and while the actors rehearse the different scenes and get their pictures taken for the posters and program leaflets, the rest of the crew continue to build the set and prepare the props and costumes.   

Bucky spends most of his time with Wanda and Peter. They’re all stagehands, and their job is to make sure that all the wardrobe changes, props, and set pieces are preset, moved, and reset during the performance. Peter is quick, strong, and has a talent for moving around backstage  with an ease unlike anyone Bucky’s ever seen. Peter often helps Thor prepare the various backdrops, as well as rigging the lights and sound equipment by climbing around the fly gallery and attic above the stage like a monkey. Bucky’s not entirely sure if he’s allowed to do that without a safety harness on, but whoever wrote the safety rules had obviously never been exposed to the enthusiasm and eagerness to help of one Peter Parker.

Wanda scolds him everytime she finds out he’s been up there unsupervised, while Thor gives him a hard slap on the shoulder, praising him for a job well done. It usually ends with Wanda giving them both a lecture, and Bucky does his very best not to end up in the crossfire whenever that happens.

Obviously, Bucky is also focusing a lot on his job. Even though it is proving to be harder than he had initially thought.

He’d like to blame it on Steve for being so friendly and easy to talk to, or Sam for being so unnervingly witty and fun to be around. But even though he spends a lot of time with those two, he has to admit to himself that they’re not even half as distracting as Natasha.

Bucky swears she gets more beautiful every time he sees her. And sure, it’s easy enough to get caught up on her looks, but the more he works with and around her, he can’t escape her humor, her compassion, or the tremendous effort and devotion she puts into her work. Her passion is almost tangible, and Bucky finds himself spellbound whenever she steps onto the stage, nearly forgetting that he actually has tasks to do.

He doesn’t get a chance to talk to her again until the second week of rehearsals. Bucky steps out into the lobby in time to spot Natasha already heading for the front door. Noting that she’s alone, he speeds up just enough to reach her as she puts her hand on the door. Bucky’s heart races, but he doesn’t know why. All he knows is that he wants to speak to her, _needs_ to speak to her, if only to say hello.

“Hi, Natasha,” he blurts out, and manages a casual smile when Natasha looks up at him, slightly startled. Then her shoulders lose their surprised tension as she smiles back.

“Oh, please,” she says with an eye roll as she takes a step back from the door. “It’s Nat. Natasha sounds like I’m being scolded by my agent.”

“You get scolded by your agent often?” Bucky asks with feigned surprise, and Natasha laughs.

“No, thankfully not, and I’d like to keep it that way.” She lowers her head with a slight shake. “But who knows? The way things are going, I might have to face some bad reviews whether I want to or not.”

“What do you mean?” Bucky asks. “I’ve seen you. Your performance is flawless.”

“That’s sweet of you to say,” Natasha says softly. “But unfortunately there’s a lot of things missing.” She sighs, looking out the glass door at the near-empty parking lot. “Truth is,” she says, “the performance lacks chemistry. I’ve told Justin several times that we have to read our scenes together, but so far he hasn’t shown up.”

Bucky frowns. Thinking back on the week that’s passed, he has to admit that he’s only seen Nat read lines with Steve and Maria, and a few with Clint. But never Justin. Justin’s been at the theater, Bucky knows, but Nat’s right; the guy hasn’t set foot on stage yet.

“I mean,” Nat continues with even more frustration in her voice, “we have to read together at _some_ point. But he seems to think that we just need a few runs before the actual premiere to get it all right, and that’s not how it works. This isn’t a movie, it’s theater! We can’t do it again, or change the angle of a camera to ‘catch the moment,’” she says while making exaggerated air quotes in front of Bucky’s face. “He’s taken _one_ theater class in his entire career, and now, just because he’s read up on some fancy theater terminology, he thinks he knows better than everyone else. I swear, the man is absolutely insufferable!”

“Agreed,” Bucky says calmly, and Nat gives another loud, frustrated sigh before leaning her head forward to rub light fingers over her temples.

“Sorry,” she says. “I didn’t mean to go on a rant.”

“Trust me, it’s okay. Besides, I’m pretty sure you didn’t say anything that wasn’t true.”

“Damn right, I didn’t,” Nat mutters.

“You’re doing the best you can.” After a moment of hesitation, Bucky puts his hand on her shoulder. “And I’m sure you’ll be able to deliver your lines perfectly in the end. You’ll see.”

“Thanks,” Natasha murmurs. “It would all be so much easier if I had someone to read with though.”

Bucky nods in agreement, but stops when Natasha suddenly looks him straight in the eye with an unreadable expression on her face. “What’s wrong?” he asks cautiously.

“Nothing,” Nat replies. “I was just…” Suddenly, she reaches up to where Bucky’s resting his hand on her shoulder, clasping it hard. “Can I ask you a favor?”

“I, uh— Sure.”

“Would you read with me?”

Blinking, Bucky gapes at her for a moment. “Who, me?” he eventually manages. “But… I’m no actor.”

“Please?” Natasha begs. “You only have to read out Justin’s lines to me. I just want an actual face to act against, but the others all have their own roles to memorise. Some of them several.”

Bucky is close to asking if someone as famous as Natasha Romanoff really _needs_ to have someone else around in order to perform, but he manages to hold his tongue at the last second. After all, who is _he_ to tell _her_ how acting is or isn’t done?

“Well…” he says slowly. “I can’t promise I’ll be any good, but I can give it a shot?”

“That’s all I’m asking,” Natasha assures him. Then she smirks. “And just between you and me, if I can learn this part without having to spend any additional time around Justin, that’s a win in my book.”

“I hear ya,” Bucky answers dryly, feeling warm and mushy inside as Natasha lights up in response.

“So, tomorrow?” she asks. “Or is that too soon?”

“Nah, tomorrow works,” Bucky replies. “Thor and Tony are gonna do some more set work tomorrow, so Wanda and Peter will most likely be helping out there anyway. I should have plenty of time.”

“Great,” Natasha says, letting go of his hand as she starts to back toward the door. “I’ll see you later then.”

“Absolutely,” Bucky replies. Natasha smiles at him, and then she’s out the door, heading towards the car that’s already outside waiting for her. Bucky watches her go, and even as he watches the car drive away through the window, the warmth in his gut doesn’t fade.

 

/\/\/\

 

Bucky’s read lines before. He works at a theater—of course he’s read lines. He’s never performed them in front of an audience, but when an actor’s called in sick or couldn’t make it to rehearsal, he’s helped out. Whether his acting skills are worth mentioning, he doesn’t know, but none of his coworkers have booed him off the stage so far.

That aside, he can’t say he’s not nervous about suddenly being asked to read together with Natasha Romanoff.

Walking into the theatre, he half hopes for a few moments alone to gather his composure, but Natasha greets him the moment he steps into the auditorium.

“There you are,” she says cheerfully. “You ready to do some acting?”

“Not really,” Bucky replies, while trying to sound confident. “But I’ll do my best.”

“Aw, c’mon, you’ll do great.” Natasha gives his arm an encouraging fist bump. “We can go up on the balcony if you want? I mean, if you prefer the privacy?”

“Oh, we don’t have to—”

“Honestly, I think I’d prefer it up there,” Nat interrupts, adding, “In my experience, you get more work done when you’re not interrupted all the time.”

“All right,” Bucky agrees. “You’re the expert.” On a whim, he makes a flamboyant gesture with his hand and bows. “After you, my lady.”

“Oh, knock it off,” Nat says, snorting out a laugh even as she walks ahead of him toward the door to the foyer.

The balcony is made out of three sections, and Nat leads them to the one on the far left, where the seats are rarely even put up for ticket sales because of the pillar that some braindead architect decided would be good to put in the middle of the front row. The result is a tiny, secluded space of three by two and a half seats that are more or less completely hidden away from the rest of the auditorium.

“I figured this might work,” she tells him as she takes a seat in one of the chairs by the wall.

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “It’s perfect.” He’d like to ask how she even knew this place existed, but he keeps his mouth shut. To even hint at the fact that perhaps she’d planned to bring him here from the start makes his imagination run wild to the point that he feels ashamed of himself. Of course she didn’t look this place up beforehand! He should get his wishful thinking under control and out of the gutter before he makes a fool of himself.

He clears his throat and sits down next to her, rubbing his hands together enthusiastically. “So, where do we start?”

“Well,” Nat says, leaning over her bag to dig through its contents. “I brought you a copy of the script, because I figured you didn’t have one.” As she says it, she whips out a bundle of papers and waves it around for Bucky to take, which he does.

“Second,” she continues, “I thought we could go over what the play is about. In case you haven’t already figured it out from the stuff you’ve seen on stage so far.”

“I’ve… got a good grip on it, I think,” Bucky says slowly. “I mean, it’s basically _Pretty Woman_ , right? But Richard Gere is a woman, and Julia Roberts is an asshole?”

“That’s pretty much it, yeah.” Natasha smiles, straightening up with her own copy of the script.

“Well, the casting department did a great job on the Julia Roberts part,” Bucky mutters, causing Nat to close her eyes, struggling to hold back a smile.

“All right,” she declares. “We can’t keep talking about Justin like that. If he finds out, we’ll get our asses sued.”

“Buzzkill,” Bucky shoots back.

“No, really,” Nat says, growing more serious. “He’s gotten people fired for less. So… from now on, let’s just take the moral high ground and stay professional. Okay?”

“Don’t worry, I get it.” Bucky smiles at her, and then turns his attention to the first page in his script. “Okay, so, Act One, Scene One. John Doe—”

“That’s you,” Nat cuts in.

“All right, then, I am… lying in an alley, drinking out of a liquor bottle?” He gives her a sceptical glance. “Now that’s awfully stereotypical.”

“I know. Stereotypes sell, unfortunately. People are supposed to dislike him at first, and making him a homeless drunk will play at their guilty conscience once the play is over. It’s all about raising money for people in that exact kind of situation, after all,” she adds.

“So he doesn’t stay a presumed asshole throughout the whole thing?” Bucky asks.

“No, no, he changes. And even though his behavior at the beginning doesn’t seem fully justified, it’s all explained later. A reason, not an excuse.”

“Okay, then I’m with you.” He turns the pages, skimming through their content. “I have to call you a bitch?” he asks, horrified as he reads the lines in front of him.

“Yup,” Nat confirms. “And then you have to pass out on the floor.”

“Fun times.”

“Very.”

Bucky sighs, flipping back to the page of their first scene. “All right then. Let’s get this show on the road, shall we?”

“Ready whenever you are.”

“Just don’t laugh at me,” Bucky pleads. “I am by no means a good actor.”

“No promises,” Natasha quips.

“Geez, thanks.”

Nat laughs and then taps the page. “C’mon, now. Act One, Scene One. You go first.”

 

/\/\/\

 

They read together up on the balcony the entire day. And the next day, and the day after that. Justin hates it, Bucky can tell. He keeps sending them foul glances when he sees them go off to read together, but he never interferes or stops them. Bucky wouldn’t have preferred it any other way. Besides, there’s nothing Justin can do about it since they’re not doing anything to disturb him or anyone else, and since he still claims to be too busy to rehearse, then…

Bucky honestly doesn’t get what the guy’s deal is. The play is actually very good, and Natasha is a great co-star. Sure the script uses a few well-known clichés and tropes, but there’s always a delightfully raw twist to them that makes the entire story feel fresh nonetheless. The character Bucky’s reading, who’s deliberately been named John Doe, is indeed an asshole. But like Natasha said, he also has his reasons for being angry and distrustful of the world. He’s not in the right, but Bucky can’t help but sympathize with the guy.

Perhaps that’s why getting into the character feels so easy for once. The spoken lines are all brutally casual, and it feels like he’s working himself through a genuine conversation rather than putting on a performance. Natasha assures him that he’s doing great, but Bucky can’t tell if it’s because she’s genuinely impressed or because she doesn’t want to hurt his feelings. Personally, he’s not sure which one of those two options he would be able to handle with the most dignity.

Starstruck isn’t exactly a strange expression, but Bucky never thought he’d be the one to express it. It’s ridiculous! He’s a smart guy, yet every time he gets within ten feet of Natasha his IQ drops to match his shoe size. He stumbles and bumbles and says the most stupid things. It’s a miracle he hasn’t managed to actually insult someone. Natasha, on the other hand, doesn’t seem to find his clumsiness or lowered intelligence offensive. She smiles and laughs, and behaves as if she finds his behavior endearing. Then again, she is an actress, so perhaps she’s just keeping up appearance to make him happy? Again, Bucky’s not sure for which alternative his ego is better prepared.

On Thursday, as they make their way down from the balcony, she suddenly stops in the middle of the staircase, reaching for her bag.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” she says. “I’ll be leaving for another press conference tomorrow morning, but I figured… shit, where is it…ah!”  Triumphantly, she pulls out a folded note and hands it to him. “I figured you could text me when you’re free and we could maybe run lines through the phone?”

Gingerly, Bucky takes the note. “You’re giving me your phone number?” he asks in disbelief.

“Yeah,” Nat replies. Then her face drops slightly. “Why, you don’t want it?”  

“Not at all!” Bucky exclaims, cringing when he hears the words leave his mouth. “I mean, y-yes, of course I do. I’m sorry, I thought you were gonna ask if I minded, I— I mean—” he closes his eyes and takes a deep, grounding breath. “What I’m trying to say is, since you’re the one going away, being busy with press and all… Wouldn’t it be easier if _you_ called _me_ when you’re done with all that? You know, when _you’re_ free?”

“Oh.” Nat blinks, and then ducks her head, shaking it slowly. “Of course. That’s— I didn’t even think about that. So stupid of me.”

“No, no, you’re not stupid,” Bucky objects. “I mean, you have a bunch of stuff to think about that’s more important than calling me.”

“No, that’s not it at all. You _are_ important, I just—” She giggles, making Bucky frown with confusion until she holds her hand up. “All right,” she says. “Let’s just decide that once I’m done Friday, I’ll send you a text. And if you’re free, you just call me back. Sound good?”

“I think it sounds great.” Licking his lips, Bucky watches Nat tuck a strand of her hair behind her ear and she flashes him a smile before turning to continue down the staircase.

Bucky feels lightheaded following her, and the folded paper with her phone number digs into his palm with the weight of a rock; intense and very, very much there.

And somehow, he’s more excited about the fact that she wanted him to call her than actually having her number.

 

/\/\/\

 

Bucky spends all of Friday walking on eggshells. He had texted Nat earlier so that she’d have his number, and she had texted back, “Thanks, I’ll call you later!” with a smiley face. For some reason that smiley face had made Bucky feel as if he’s now walking around with an unpinned grenade in his pocket.

Wanda catches him checking his phone several times, but he realizes he should probably get himself back in line when he looks up from his phone one time and comes face to face with Tony’s smirk.

“Someone’s busy,” Tony says gleefully as Bucky quickly tucks his phone back into his pocket.

“Nah, I was just— I’m expecting a call, and I’m… I just don’t wanna miss it.”

“Sure,” Tony agrees, leaning against the wall next to Bucky. “And, uh, does this call have a name?”

“Drop it, Stark,” Bucky says with a sigh. “Trust me, that’s a hornets nest neither of us wants you to go poking at.”

“Oh, but I love poking things.” Tony turns to him more fully. “And seeing how eager you are about me not finding out, it must mean that it’s someone I know. That we know.”

“Tony…”

“And since you’re expecting a call, that also means it’s someone who’s not currently here…”

“Tony,” Bucky repeats, a bit harsher.

“Which means,” Tony continues, paying him no heed, “that it must be someone you’ve been spending a lot of one-on-one time with, who most likely didn’t have your number _before_ , and to be honest that doesn’t leave that many alternatives—”

“Tony!”

To Bucky’s relief, Tony actually does shut up. The mischievous gleam in his eyes doesn’t fade, however, but Bucky supposes one can’t have everything.

“Listen, Tony,” he says gravely. “You can’t go around telling people about this, alright? I don’t— I don’t want this person to think I’m bragging about having their number or something.”

“All right, all right,” Tony says. He holds his hands up in the air like he’s at gunpoint. “I get it, the two of you are at a sensitive place in your relationship. Say no more.”

“It’s not a relationship,” Bucky argues.

“She gave you her number,” Tony points out.

“Yeah, but that doesn’t—” Bucky cuts himself off, realizing what he had just given away, but Tony looks as calm as ever.

“Listen, stud,” he says, lowering her voice. “Romanoff is a professional. Alright? That means she knows full well that privacy is a thing that doesn’t come cheap in her line of business. If she gave you her number, as in the number to the phone she carries on her person—not to her agent, not to her publicist, but her _private phone…_ then she’s aware that she’s taking a leap of faith here.”

“If so,” Bucky replies carefully, “then that means you need to keep your mouth shut about this whole thing as well.”

“What thing?” Tony asks innocently. He leans off the wall, backing away a few steps. “I mean, if there _was_ a thing, and you asked me to keep it a secret, of course I would. But as far as I’m concerned, I’ve heard nothing.”

Letting out a tightly held breath, Bucky relaxes.

“But if you don’t lay off your phone during work hours,” Tony continues, “I’mma go tell Fury you’ve gone and developed a serious Candy Crush addiction. And that he should confiscate your phone until you’ve gotten things under control.”

Bucky snorts out a laugh, shaking his head. “Yeah, you do that,” he says. “I promise I’ll work on my… cell phone relationship.”

“Atta boy,” Tony says, and with a wink, he’s gone.

Bucky sighs and takes his phone out of his back pocket, looking at the blank home screen. “She’s busy,” he whispers to himself. “Let her do her job.” Then he puts the phone back in his pocket and makes a solid promise to himself not to touch it until he gets off work for the day.

 

/\/\/\

 

When Natasha finally calls, it’s much later than Bucky had expected. Granted, it is a Friday, and Nat’s job surely doesn’t end at 5PM like most people, but he had almost begun to lose hope when his phone finally begins to ring.

He’s in bed, but not even close to sleep, so he’s got his phone in his hand and the call answered in less than three seconds.

“Hello?” he says.

 _“Hi.”_ Natasha’s voice is low but cheerful as it comes floating out from the other end of the call. _“Did I wake you?”_

“Not at all,” Bucky replies.

_“You don’t sound very tired, I’ll give you that. I’m sorry it took so long. We went to dinner after the conference and things ran late.”_

“Don’t worry about it. I’m not doing anything tomorrow anyway. Except maybe sleeping in.”

 _“Oh, that sounds nice,”_ Nat says wistfully. _“I haven’t slept in in ages.”_

“Really?” Bucky asks, surprised. “Why not?”

_“Well, there’s gym, and work, then more gym, and then social obligations, then more work…”_

“Wow,” Bucky mumbles. “That does sound like a busy schedule.”

 _“Right?”_ Nat agrees. _“I mean, take today. I woke up at 5AM to get ready for a conference that started at ten. Then lunch, after which I had to leave for another conference at a different venue for a movie I’m taking part in next summer, and then dinner…. I didn’t get back to my hotel until now.”_

“Oh.” Bucky licks his lips. “Then… maybe you’d rather go to sleep now? You’ve had a busy day?”

 _“No,”_ Nat says quickly. _“No, this is nice. Talking to you is relaxing, so it’s perfect.”_

Bucky exhales sharply, half a laugh and half a sigh. “That’s good. I’m, uh, glad I can help.”

 _“Yeah,”_ Nat says. She sounds like she’s smiling. _“Me too.”_

They end up talking for three and a half hours, and they don’t mention reading lines a single time. When Bucky fails to hide his fifth yawn, Nat tells him they should probably get some sleep, and Bucky reluctantly agrees. It takes them almost 30 minutes extra to say good night, and when they eventually hang up, Bucky is feeling more awake than ever. He puts his phone on his bedside table and flops onto his back with a bewildered groan to stare up at the ceiling in disbelief. Holy shit, he can’t believe that just happened. He can’t believe how easy it had felt too. There had been no awkward silences, no moments of feeling stupid. They had talked about movies, and music, and food… Swear to god, halfway through the call he had forgotten that he was talking to a celebrity.

He frowns. Perhaps he should try to keep that mentality going. After all, if he can’t stop freaking out about Nat being famous, he’ll never have a shot with her.

The thought immediately makes him cringe. What is he thinking? Him, dating Natasha Romanoff? That’s a fairytale if he ever heard one. A relationship like that’s for the movie screen, not real life, and yet, after that phone call just now, it feels like a future more attainable than ever.

Bucky exhales, closing his eyes. He knows that he can’t allow himself to get his hopes up too far. He’ll only end up hurt.

That said, a _little_ hope never hurt anybody.

 

/\/\/\

 

The following week, the company is back at the theater again, and Justin, for once, actually seems willing to do his job. Bucky’s genuinely surprised about the sudden shift in his attitude, but over their lunch break Steve and Sam reveal that Justin’s agent had found out about Justin not showing up for rehearsals and had given him a stern talking to over the weekend.

“You should’ve seen him when he showed up to the restaurant,” Sam says between bites from where he sits on top of one of the large speakers backstage. “The guy looked like he’d just swallowed an entire jar of pickle juice the entire time.”

“Sounds classy,” Bucky comments. He’s got his own food in his hand—Chinese takeaway from the food truck down the street—and is sitting on the floor next to Steve, leaning back against the wall.

“Like always,” Steve agrees. “He’s a great actor, but he’s never been good at hiding it when he’s mispleased.”

“Now that’s the truth.” Sam points his fork at Steve. “Like yesterday.”

“Oh, man, yeah,” Steve says with a sigh, shaking his head. “That was like watching a five-year-old getting ready to throw a tantrum.”

“What was?” Bucky asks curiously. He’s expecting them to laugh and provide him with a vivid, comic description of the event the way they normally do. However, he’s not prepared for them to both look at him like he just asked if the moon’s actually made of cheese.

“What?” he asks.

“You’re telling me you haven’t noticed?” Steve wonders, innocently wide-eyed.

“Noticed what?”

“Oh, dear,” Sam mumbles.

“No,” Bucky objects, worried. “Seriously, what?”

“Should we tell him?” Steve asks Sam.

“Maybe.” Sam shrugs, grinning. “Or we could wait and see if he figures it out for himself.”

“I swear to god, you two better start talking, or I’m gonna—”

“Woah, woah, calm down, hotshot,” Sam says while holding his hands up, fork and all. “You seriously mean you haven’t noticed _anything?_ ”

Bucky doesn’t reply. He just gives Sam a long, steady glare until Sam shakes his head at him with a disappointed sigh.

“Alright,” Steve says, dispersing the tension by leaning forward to tap his knuckles against Bucky’s knee. “Justin’s jealous. That’s what’s going on.”

“Jealous?” Bucky asks, turning his attention from Sam to focus on Steve. “Of what?”

“You and Nat,” Sam deadpans.

 _“What?”_ Bucky can feel the heat rush to his face faster than he can stop it, but he’s not going to give them the satisfaction of knowing that he’s noticed. “Why?”

“Because you’re stomping all over what he considers to be his territory,” Steve explains.

“Territory? You’re talking about _Nat?_ ” Instantly, the embarrassment inside of Bucky’s chest shifts into something even hotter, and much more dangerous. “Because I think I know what she’d say about your choice of words.”

“Listen,” Steve says. “I know, and that’s not what I meant. But we all know that’s what Justin’s thinks. He’s an asshole, a sexist, and a creep. Basically, he’s everything you’re not.”

“And that’s what he’s jealous about,” Sam cuts in. “Because you’re his direct opposite, and Nat is obviously into that. Seeing as she’d rather rehearse her lines with you than with him.”

“Yesterday, after we completed scene four,” Steve continues, “she walked over to you during the break and asked you what you thought, remember?”

“Yeah,” Bucky answers slowly.

“Well,” Sam continues, “Justin is gonna remember that too. The look he sent your way was toxic, man.”

“Why, because Nat asked my opinion?”

“Because Nat _wants_ your opinion,” Steve corrects. “And not his.”

Bucky screws his eyes shut with a groan, rubbing at his temple. “So… He’s jealous, because he wants Nat to pay attention to him, but she’s not. So he’s pissed off at _me_ , because she likes me better?”

“Exactly.”

Groaning again, Bucky leans his head back against the wall to stare up at the ceiling. “Well, lucky me.”

“You’re gonna get luckier,” Sam promises. “Now that he’s set his sights on you, you’re gonna end up getting the brunt of things around here.”

Bucky snorts loudly. “Yeah, in his dreams.”

“As much as I would like to cheer you on,” Steve says gingerly, “I also think you should be careful. You’ve seen the kind of stuff he’s been allowed to pull so far.”

“No offense, Cap,” Sam mumbles, “but you’re not really in a position to caution people to be careful.”

Steve rolls his eyes in a wide, sarcastic arch, but to Bucky’s disappointment, he doesn’t elaborate on the comment.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky says. “I know where the line is. And Fury and I go a long way back, so I don’t think I have to think too hard about it.”

“You and Fury?” Steve asks. “How come?”

“My mom was a pianist here. She and Fury knew each other well.” Bucky pokes a little at the food at the bottom of his box. “I think she made him promise to look out for me when she passed away. It makes sense really. He’s the closest thing to a father figure I’ve ever had.”

“I’m sorry,” Steve says sincerely. “I didn’t realize it was a personal topic.”

“It’s not,” Bucky promises. “Not really. Not anymore.” He gives Steve a smile, and Steve smiles back.

“Well, if you run into trouble with Justin, let us know, alright?” he says. “We might not be allowed to… help the way we’d like to, but we’ll do our best.”

“What he said,” Sam agrees.

“Thanks.” Bucky nods his head. He’s not sure what just happened, just that it was a lot in a very short amount of time. And that he somehow feels more safe and more nervous about it all at once. “I’ll remember that.”

And sure enough, Bucky has barely tossed his empty takeaway box in the trash when he feels a hard tap on his shoulder.

“Hey.”

Turning around, knowing exactly who it is, Bucky gives Justin a curious look.

“I need coffee,” Justin says.

“Okay,” Bucky replies flatly.

“Tall, soy latte, two percent foam, extra hot.”

“I’m not sure the coffee machine here makes that, but you can always give it a try.”

The annoyance appearing on Justin’s face at that is almost enough to make Bucky’s mask crack, but he holds it together.

“What I meant,” Justin says slowly, talking to Bucky as if he’s stupid, “was that I want you to head down to the Starbucks I passed on my way here this morning and get me that.”

“That’s a ten minute walk from here,” Bucky points out cooly.

“Which is why the latte should be extra hot,” Justin retorts.

Bucky is half a second away from telling Justin exactly what he thinks of that suggestion when from nowhere, Nat appears by his shoulder.

“Oh, Bucky, are you getting coffee?”

“Uhh…”

“Would you mind getting me a chai latte while you’re at it? Skim milk?”

Torn, Bucky looks at her. Time moves slowly as he watches her lean in and rest her chin against his shoulder with a soft bat of her eyelids. The scent of her hair fills his nostrils, and he nods, unable to stop himself.

“Thank you,” she says, and just like that, her lips press against his cheek in a swift kiss before pulling away.

“Natasha, we should get back to the stage,” Justin says, and Bucky feels smug from the audible dislike in his voice.

“Yeah, you go ahead, I’ll be right there.” Natasha gives Justin a charming smile, and then pulls at Bucky’s sleeve, making him walk with her towards the other side of the room. Once they’re out of earshot, she leans in toward Bucky again. “I know it’s asking a lot, but there’s a better way around this than straight-up conflict.”

“Are you sure?” Bucky mutters. “Because straight-up conflict sounds pretty damn tempting right about now.”

“Like I said,” Nat urges. “I know it’s asking a lot. But try to think outside of the box.”

“How?”

“Well,” she says, her lower lip twitching with a smirk, “if your assistant keeps screwing things up, you get another assistant, right?”

“But if I screw up on purpose, I’ll end up in trouble.”

“Then don’t make it your fault. Accidents happen. Nobody’s perfect.” She smiles at him and gives his arm a light pat. “You’ll figure something out.”

And with that, she turns around to head towards the door where Justin’s still standing, impatiently tapping his foot. But before she takes a single step, she abruptly turns back again and leans in close. “By the way,” she whispers. “You don’t have to take his order super-seriously. The soy milk is just for him to have something to complain about if people only have regular milk available.”

“Figures,” Bucky sighs. “Honestly, the guy should just get a pot and some beans, and figure the rest out himself.”

The comment makes Natasha laugh, but she quickly covers her mouth as she turns away from him a second time. As she walks past Justin and out the door, Justin gives Bucky a dirty glare and gestures to his watch before following her backstage.

Admittedly, Bucky is still conflicted as he shrugs on his jacket and leaves to go get the ordered coffees. He stops by the stage and asks around to see if anyone else wants something, seeing as he’s already going, and scribbles the orders down on his phone.

As he begins his walk, he tries to push his annoyance aside, but it’s not easy. He gets it, though, he really does. Staying professional is important for the entire production, and it would be selfish of him to let his emotions get the better of him. But, god, giving that pompous dick a punch in the face would feel _so_ good…

Instead, he does his best to take Natasha’s advice to heart, and as he walks, a plan begins to form inside his head. Is it petty? Yes. Is it immature? Hell yeah. Will it make him feel better? You bet your ass it will.

 

/\/\/\

 

When he returns to the auditorium, takeaway bag in hand, he stands by the stage to wait for the scene being rehearsed to end. Steve and Sam get their drinks immediately since they’re not currently onstage. Wanda, Maria, and Pepper get theirs next, along with Clint, who has a special order with extra shots of espresso that Bucky guesses would be enough to fuel a small village for the upcoming twenty-four hours.

And then, Justin comes walking up, hand already out and clearly expecting Bucky to have his beverage up and ready for him. Quietly, Bucky pulls up the right cup—there’s only Justin’s and Nat’s left—and obediently hands it over to him.

As expected, Justin immediately looks over the order written on the cup. Finding no errors, he squints, and then takes a sip. And just as expected, he nearly spits it all out just as quick.

“What the fuck is this shit?” he demands angrily just as Nat approaches from behind.

“What’s wrong?” she asks.

“I don’t know,” Bucky promises.

“This isn’t what I told you to get!” Justin snaps, thrusting the cup back into Bucky’s hands.

“It’s not?” Bucky asks, acting flabbergasted. He looks at the cup, and then takes a sip for himself. “Wow,” he says. “Clearly, it’s not. It tastes like—”

 _“Tea.”_ Justin grimaces and wipes his mouth.

“I take it you don’t like that?”

Justin glares at him and Bucky looks back calmly. There’s a tension in the air, crackling, but thankfully Natasha steps in before any of them gets the chance to say anything.

“It’s probably just a mistake,” she says. “It happens every now and then.”

“The guy working the barista machine looked pretty green,” Bucky agrees solemnly. Then, taking a risk, he adds, “if you want, I could go back and ask for a new one?”

“Don’t bother,” Justin gruffs, pushing past them both. “I’ll fix coffee myself.”

It’s the answer Bucky had expected. After all, he knows how testy Bruce gets whenever he hasn’t had his coffee in the morning, and since Justin’s already waited for his beloved order for almost half an hour, waiting another thirty minutes most likely doesn’t appeal to him at all. So he politely steps aside and allows Justin to walk away while Bucky holds out the bag with Nat’s chai latte for her to take.

“How did you know he doesn’t like tea?” Nat says under her breath.

“I didn’t,” Bucky replies. “I just told them to put the order on the cup, but make it green tea.”

“And they agreed to that?”

“I gave the barista five dollars extra and said it was a harmless prank for my friend who hates coffee. Which technically was the truth, but with tea,” he adds.

“Clever,” Nat comments. “But what are you gonna do with the tea?”

“Drink it, of course,” Bucky shoots back, the cup already halfway to his mouth. “Tea is awesome.”

The comment makes Nat laugh again, and Bucky is fairly certain that he’ll never get tired of hearing that sound. He takes a deep gulp, which by now is the perfect temperature for drinking (he’s gonna have to thank Justin for that tip later), and gives her a nudge with his shoulder. “Hey,” he says. “You wanna go read some lines?”

“You know what?” Nat replies. “I would love to.”

  


	2. Chapter 2

[ ](http://imgbox.com/1bENTO0b)

Bucky had hoped that his stunt with the coffee would’ve removed him from Justin’s errand-boy list, but sadly, that doesn’t appear to be the case. Sure, he’s not asked to go fetch coffee unattended anymore, but that doesn’t stop Justin from demanding his assistance on set.

“You’re the stagehand, I’m the actor,” Justin says at one point. “Your job is to make sure I can do mine, and that means when I speak, you listen. _Capiche?_ ”

The overwhelming urge to say something really offensive back is intense, but thankfully doesn’t last very long. Telling himself that the douchebag isn’t worth the energy, Bucky decides to just wait out the storm. If Hammer thinks he can break him, then let the guy try.

So he does everything Justin asks of him. Perhaps not as enthusiastically as he would have otherwise, and perhaps not always correctly, but he always puts on a show of doing his best. The tasks themselves are ridiculous; everything from making sure the water in Justin’s water bottle is chilled, to fetching him a different pair of sunglasses from the car. Things you see in movies really, which Bucky’s sure is where Justin picked them up.

Their battle of wills isn’t exactly discreet, so Bucky’s not at all surprised when he gets called to Fury’s office on Friday afternoon, just as he’s getting ready to leave.

He goes peacefully; after all, he’s not worried. Reaching the office, he gives the door a polite knock and waits for Fury’s curt, “Enter,” before he opens it.

Fury is sitting behind his desk, and he doesn’t say anything when Bucky walks in. Neither does Bucky as he takes a stand in the middle of the room, not sitting down in the chair earmarked for him, and waits.

Bucky’s spent most of his life at this theater. His childhood summers and afternoons were spent roaming the corridors backstage, being careful to not go poking around where he didn’t belong. He had been scared of Fury then—this tall man with a black patch over his left eye, like a pirate captain running his ship. But the more time you spend with the things you fear, the more you begin to understand them. After a few years, Fury stopped being scary, and instead became this eccentric, sometimes pretty cool dude, who’d occasionally sneak Bucky tootsie roll candy when Bucky’s mom wasn’t looking.

Being called in here now, so many years later, it’s basically like receiving the message that your uncle, rather than your boss, wants to talk to you.

Fury loves putting people on edge. That’s his go-to strategy. To sit there behind his desk with his fingers steepled, staring his victim down until they crack and begin to talk on their own. Unfortunately for him, Bucky’s developed the same strategy.

And he’s better at it.

As the minutes tick by, neither of them says a word. Bucky never keeps track of how long it takes; it’s irrelevant anyway. The office is cool, comfortably air conditioned, and the low hum of the unit mounted in the window frame is the only sound while Bucky waits.

Finally, Fury gives a loud sigh as he leans over to brace his elbows on the desk. “Goddammit, Barnes,” he grumbles. “Aren’t you giving me enough of a hard time as it is?”

“I wouldn’t know,” Bucky replies easily. “Although I suspect you’re about to tell me?”

“Sit your ass down,” Fury says, but without any particular heat, as he points to the empty chair. Bucky does as he’s told, and Fury sighs again, leaning back in his seat to study him. “So are you gonna tell me?” he says after a while.

“Tell you what?”

“About this ridiculous vendetta you’ve got going on with Justin Hammer.”

“It’s not a vendetta,” Bucky argues politely. “He asks me to do things, and I do them.”

“Do you now?”

When Bucky doesn’t reply, Fury gives him a long, steady look before speaking again. “Listen,” he says. “I honestly don’t care about the why here. If you two have beef with each other, you can deal with it however you like, as long as you do it _outside_ of this theater.”

“That’s going to be pretty difficult since the theater is the only place I see him. Thank god.”

“Watch it,” Fury cautions. “We can’t afford to let this affect the production. This place needs the funding, and I know it’s a royal pain in everyone’s ass, but we _need_ Hammer for that. He’s the biggest name in the show.”

“He’s the biggest dick in the show as well,” Bucky retorts, losing his cool slightly. “A chauvinistic, self-centered jerk, and you know it.”

“I do,” Fury agrees. “But business is business.”

“If you think that I’m gonna be sucking up to that absolute dickhead—” Bucky starts, but Fury raises his hand, silencing him.

“You’re not,” he says. “We’ve already arranged for his _actual_ personal assistant to come in so that you can pay attention to _your_ actual job.”

The information makes Bucky lose some of his tense posture, and Fury sighs again, standing up. “He’ll leave you alone from now on, I’ll make sure of it. But please, don’t go pissing the man off.”

“You know I can’t promise that won’t happen,” Bucky replies. “But I swear I’ll do my best.”

Fury nods, but he doesn’t look happy as he walks around the table to stand in front of Bucky. “I suppose that’s gonna have to do for now,” he declares. “But if there’s trouble, I hope you realize that you’re gonna be the one who has to go.”

 _“Me?”_ Bucky scoffs. “Even if he starts it?”

“That’s the pecking order,” Fury says. “And you know I’ll do my best to look out for you, all of you. If you have to leave, it would only be for this one show. You’re not getting fired. But Hammer’s lawyered up to the teeth, and if he decides to take us on, we don’t stand a chance. You understand that, right?”

Bucky nods. He understands, even though his blood is boiling from the unfairness of it all. “For the sake of the theater,” he mumbles.

“Yeah,” Fury agrees, and Bucky watches him reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. “For the sake of the theater…”

Again, Bucky nods, feeling Fury’s hand give his arm a slight squeeze before letting go. Taking it as a sign that their conversation is over, Bucky turns and leaves the office in silence.

He makes his way downstairs, cutting through the now-empty auditorium toward the lobby.

“Hey.”

Bucky whirls around, startled by the sudden voice, even though his brain has already registered who it is. “Goddammit, Nat,” he mutters, ignoring the way she’s grinning at him.

“What, did I scare you?” she teases.

“Of course not,” Bucky replies sarcastically. “I always do a pirouette whenever I’m about to walk through a door, haven’t you noticed?”

“You know what, I haven’t, but I really wouldn’t be surprised.” She throws a look over her shoulder, then she turns back, lowering her voice. “I heard you got called to Fury’s office. Is everything alright? You’re not in any trouble, are you?”

“What? No, I’m fine.” Bucky waves his hand dismissively in front of his face. “He just wanted to know what the deal was with Justin.”

“What did you tell him?”

“The truth. That I haven’t done anything he hasn’t asked of me. And as thanks for my impeccable service, they’re flying in Justin’s real assistant to give me some time to actually work.”

“Oh, thank god,” Nat mutters. “Another week with him bossing you around and I would’ve punched him in the face myself.”

“You?” Bucky says with a disbelieved snort. “Miss Professional herself would throw a punch for my sake?”

“Don’t flatter yourself, buster,” Nat counters, poking at the center of Bucky’s chest with her index finger. “I’ve been wanting to land a hit on that smug mug of his for years. You’re just the excuse.”

“Wow, way to break a guy’s heart,” Bucky retorts. He brings his hand up to rub his fingers over the spot where she poked him, secretly missing the touch, however brief.

“Yeah, steel yourself then, because lo and behold, I’m not here just because I got worried about you. I actually have a favor to ask as well.”

“Ah, you cruel mistress,” Bucky throws out, and feels proud of himself when Nat smirks back.

“It’s quite a big one,” she declares. “But you’ve been such a great help so far, I’m willing to take a chance that you’ll help me again.”

Bucky stands aside as Natasha positions herself between him and the door to the lobby, and when she looks at him next, her eyes are pleading.

“It’s scene seven,” she reveals dramatically. “I know Justin and I rehearsed it on stage today, but it just doesn’t _feel_ right. I want to read it through again. With you.” She bites her lip, and Bucky honestly can’t tell if she’s actually anxious about his reply, or if she’s putting on an act to make him give in faster.  Because it’s not like he’s going to refuse.

“Well, you’re right,” he says slowly. “That’s quite a big favor alright.”

“Please,” she begs, batting her eyelashes at him, and yeah, this is an act for sure. “You’re the only one who can help me. Have mercy.”

“Alright, alright,” Bucky agrees, bursting out in a laugh at her exaggerated desperation. “I’ll help, I promise.”

“Great!” She nods to the stage. “After you.”

“Oh,” Bucky deflates slightly. “You mean right now?”

“Yeah. What, you’re busy?”

“No, no, I was just headed home. But you could always come with me, if you want?”

“To your place?” Nat asks, and Bucky licks his lips, swallowing hard.

“Yeah. I mean, only if you want to. I don’t want to sound like a creep.”

“No, it’s not that,” Nat replies quickly. “I’d love to, really, but… thing is, there’s a price to this whole actress gig, and it’s called privacy. If I’m seen with you alone, the press is gonna go digging through your entire life, and I don’t want to cause you that kind of trouble.”

Bucky nods. He knows all too well about the hoard of cameras that’s been lurking outside every day since the cast arrived at the theater. Then he lights up.

“What if we don’t have to be seen?” he asks carefully.

“How do you mean?”

“I used to come here every day after school as a kid,” Bucky explains. “My mom worked here, she played the piano. Sometimes when she worked late and I wanted to go home, I went out the back door rather than the front of the building. There’s a shortcut through the alley, and my apartment is only two blocks away from here.” He steps up, smiling. “I mean, the press can’t follow you if they don’t know where you are.”

“I’m an actress,” Nat points out. “They’d expect me to use the stage door.”

“Who said anything about stage door?” Bucky replies smugly. “I said backdoor, and trust me, no one will expect you to come walking out of this one.”

“You’re mad,” Nat says, shaking her head even as she smiles at him. “What if we get caught? Can you imagine the headlines that would make?”

“Well…” Bucky says. “If you’re not chicken, I think I might have a solution for that as well.”

“Chicken?” Nat echoes with her left eyebrow delicately raised.

“Are you?” Bucky retorts cockily. For extra flare, he bends his arms in to flap his elbows at her, and as he does, Nat’s skeptic glower turns into a grin.

“Okay, smartypants,” she says, yanking his arms down to make him stop. “So what’s your plan?”

“C’mon,” Bucky says, grabbing her by the hand, “I’ll show you.”

She hesitates—and after all, why shouldn’t she? Being asked to follow a stranger to an unknown destination—but then she moves with him, joining him as he leads her backstage. As they reach the narrow, shady-looking staircase to the basement, Bucky expects her to hesitate again and tell him that she’s changed her mind, but she doesn’t.

He takes her to the theater’s costume room, where he gestures for her to stay over by the door as he himself disappears amongst the shelves. He rummages through the items, and soon returns to Natasha with a platinum blonde wig, and a flat cap.

“Here,” he says, holding them out for her to take. “Put these on.”

“Blonde, really?” Nat says with a skeptical look at the bob in her hand while holding the cap between her knees.

“Don’t get me wrong,” Bucky assures her, “I love your color, but it stands out like an emergency flare and it has to go.”

“But why blonde?” Nat complains as she shakes her own hair forward to swirl it into a loose bun.

“Because going by the way you talk about it, it’s a color you’d never wear out of your own volition,” Bucky explains. “That alone makes it the perfect disguise.”

“Can’t argue with that…”

She puts the wig on with an ease that reveals just how often she’s done it in the past, and Bucky watches her adjust it in the mirror that’s standing in the corner.

“You know,” she mumbles, “with this cut, it might just work.” Then she presses the flat cap onto her head, before making a twirl with her arms spread out wide. “How do I look?”

“Uncannily, much like Julia Roberts in the opening scene of _Pretty Woman_ ,” Bucky admits.

“A compliment then,” Nat replies with a cheeky smirk as she walks ahead of him toward the door. “She was hot as fuck in that movie.” She nods her head in the direction of the hallway. “You coming?”

“Hold on.” Bucky shrugs off his hoodie and holds it out. “Put this on as well.”

“All I need now is a pair of shades and I’m ready to go.”

“I think wearing shades at this hour would be more of a giveaway than a disguise.”

“You’re the expert civilian,” Nat agrees. “Now let’s go, we’ve got a play to rehearse.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Bucky replies under his breath, and hurries ahead of her to take the lead once more. Leading her through the theater’s basement, he takes her through the storage room where they keep the props and backdrops and into Thor’s workshop. There, half concealed behind a pile of uncut wooden beams, is a door.

Admittedly, it’s been a while since Bucky last used this exit, but it’s not like anything has changed since then. The alley outside is as expected empty, apart from the dumpster against the far wall that’s holding waste from the workshop. Bucky holds the door open for Nat and then gently closes it behind him with a light click from the lock. It’s raining, a light drizzle that makes the air look misty.

“Now what?” Nat whispers. Bucky suspects she’s not even aware she’s doing it. It’s adorable.

“I told you,” Bucky says, slapping his hand against the big dumpster in front of them. “I know a shortcut.”

“Where?” Nat asks, gesturing around. “The alley ends here.”

“You sure?”

He’s glad that the dumpster is basically empty, because it makes for a much more impressive visual as he gives the wheeled metal box a light shove, pushing it aside to reveal a man-sized hole in the brick wall.

As expected, Natasha looks anything but impressed.

“You want me to crawl through that?” she asks. “I mean, I’ll do it, but… I was expecting something less… gross.”

“I know it looks bad,” Bucky defends himself. “But trust me, it’s not. Just poke your head through, you’ll see what I mean.”

Nat gives him another look, but then she rolls her eyes and hunches down to peer in through the opening.

“Holy shit,” her voice comes echoing back out, and Bucky’s face splits into a grin.

“Told ya,” he replies.

“There’s an entire street back here!”

Bucky looks on as Natasha disappears into the hole, and he follows suit, only stopping long enough to drag the dumpster back into place behind them. When he stands up again, Nat’s standing in the middle of what was once another alleyway, looking up towards the open sky above them.

“How did you even find this place?” she asks, awestruck.

“I was a curious kid,” Bucky says. “ I also saw when they bricked the thing shut.”

“But why?” Nat asks, still looking up.

“As I understand it, this was a bad neighborhood at the time. So the city decided that the less alleys there were to do funny business in, the less funny business there’d be.” He points down to the other end of the alley, where another brick wall with a similar hole rises up in front of them. “That’s where we’re headed. After that, it’s just one street to my apartment, and I doubt anyone’s gonna recognise you on that short of a walk.”

“Well, too late to turn back now, I guess,” Nat says simply, and heads in the appointed direction without any hesitation.

The walk to Bucky’s apartment is short, as promised, but there’s still plenty of time for a million thoughts to run through Bucky’s mind on the way there.  

He’s nervous enough to make his limbs shake. It’s not just the prospect of getting caught, or the fact that he spontaneously invited a famous actress into his home. Nat’s presence by his side as they walk is physical, even though they’re not even touching. The sound of her steps echoes in his ears along with the soft ins and outs of her breathing. There’s more to it than her being famous and beautiful, but he can’t think like that. Hope, yes, but not actually belief. She’s coming with him to his apartment, and that doesn’t mean _anything._ But, Jesus, if someone had told him this three weeks ago…

Despite the lightness of the drizzle, his t-shirt is still clinging to his skin with rain by the time they reach their destination, and he’s grateful to finally get inside where it’s safe and warm. Nat’s better off due to his hoodie and the wig, and she takes off both while Bucky kicks his shoes off at the door.

“Thanks for lending me this,” she says, holding out the hoodie.

“Don’t mention it. Just hang it up somewhere, I’ll deal with it later.”

She does as she’s told and follows Bucky as he heads further inside. It’s a three room apartment, featuring a combined kitchenette and living room separated by a bar counter, along with two bedrooms, one of which Bucky’s converted into an office. Bucky likes it, and as he glances at Nat to gauge her reaction, he’s relieved to find no signs of displeasure in her expression.

“I’m gonna go fetch a dry shirt,” he says, motioning for the living room area. “Have a seat, I’ll be right back.”

He hurries into the bedroom, discarding his wet shirt onto the floor. He pulls out a white t-shirt and pulls it over his head, and as a second thought, he also puts on a blue and white plaid shirt. He’s still rolling up the sleeves when he returns to the living room, finding Natasha obediently seated on the couch.

“Sorry,” he says. “Can I get you something? Coffee? Tea?”

“No,” Nat laughs. “Thank you, but I’m fine.”

Bucky licks his lips and gives the back of his head a quick scratch. “This might come off sounding… presumptuous, but… I have wine?”

Nat’s smile fades, but not in a bad way. It goes from bright and bubbly to warm and devious.

“Wine sounds good,” she says.

“Alright, uh…”

“Red,” she provides helpfully. “If you’ve got that?”

“Yeah. Yeah, sure, hold on.” He heads over to the cabinet above the bar counter and begins to rummage through them. He doesn’t have a large stock, exactly, and surely not of the same class that Nat’s used to drinking.

“I’ve got Zinfandel,” he offers, holding the bottle out for her to see. “Does that work?”

“Better than you think,” she replies.

Bucky fetches two glasses and opens the bottle. He doesn’t even have to uncork it since the bottle comes with a cap, and yet his hands insist on shaking as he pours the wine. He sternly tells himself that it’s due to the lingering cold from the outside and gathers himself to bring the drinks back to the couch. He hands one glass to Nat, who takes it with a smile.

“So,” she says as he sits down on the other side of the couch. “Is this the same apartment you lived in as a child?”

“Oh, no, that one was another street down. Mom couldn’t afford a place like this by herself.”

“Herself?” Nat asks.

“Yeah,” Bucky sighs. “Dad died when I was just a kid. I don’t remember him myself, but I’ve got a few pictures.”

“I’m so sorry,” Nat says solemnly. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

“No worries,” Bucky assures her. “I’ve had a few years to process it. You’re fine.”

“And your mother?”

“Gone as well,” Bucky replies. “It’s just me now.”

“Oh, god.” Nat buries her face in her hand with an embarrassed groan. “I knew I shouldn’t have asked, I’m such a horrible person.”

“Not at all,” Bucky argues. “If anything, I think you’re one of the better people I’ve met.”

“That’s sweet of you.” Nat takes a drink from her glass and sighs contentedly. “And for the record, I didn’t ask because I thought it looked old and shabby. I just want to make that clear.”

“So my future as an interior designer is intact then?”

“Oh, absolutely,” she says, nodding. “Honestly, I like the rustic look of the place.”

“I’m flattered, really. And I wish I could take credit and say that it all has some sort of conscious theme behind it, but… I guess I just lucked out.”

“Doesn’t make it less great,” Nat points out. “And maybe the fact that you didn’t even have to think about it means you have a natural talent?”

“Thank you. And yeah, maybe. Time will tell, I guess.”

Nat smiles at him as she puts her glass down on the coffee table, leaning slightly forward. “There is something I’ve been wanting to ask you though,” she confides.

“Oh?” Bucky’s stomach flips slightly, but he reminds himself to stay cool. “What’s that?”

“Why do they call you Bucky?” she asks. “The doorbell unit downstairs said Buchanan Barnes. Is Bucky a short for that?”

Bucky exhales with a laugh, shaking his head. “No, not exactly.”

“Then what is it short for?”

Hissing through his teeth, Bucky scratches at the back of his head. “You know, normally I tell people that it’s short for my last name, but… although it _could_ be that, it’s not.” He takes a swig from his glass and then takes a deep breath. “The truth is,” he confesses, “that when I was a kid… I had buck-teeth.”

On her end of the couch Nat snorts out a loud giggle, but immediately puts her hand in front of her mouth with a remorseful face. “I’m so sorry,” she apologises. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you, it’s just… that was seriously the last thing I expected to hear. I mean, looking at you now, I never would’ve guessed.”

“It’s amazing what a year in braces can do,” Bucky admits. “And I wasn’t an extreme case in any way. Just… noticeable enough for the other kids to give me a name for it.”

“Kids can be cruel,” Nat agrees. “I’m sorry you had to go through that.”

“It’s okay. I mean, I grew out of the teeth, but the name sorta stuck around. These days I even prefer it over James.”

Nat nods. “Well, my name is actually Natalia,” she reveals. “Natalia Romanova, so I get the whole multiple name thing.”

“You changed your name?” Bucky asks, surprised.

“Well, my manager made me change it. Said people would relate better to me with a less exotic name.” She shakes her head. “Stupid really.”

“It’s not stupid,” Bucky objets. “A lot of actors change their names. And they’re both very pretty names. They suit you.”

“Thanks. I appreciate you saying that.”

Nat reaches for her glass as she stands up, and Bucky watches her take another sip as she walks up to the piano at the far end of the living room and gently runs her fingers over the closed lid.

“Do you play?” she asks.

“Yeah, mom taught me a little. I never got as good as her, but I get by.”

“Play me something.”

Bucky opens his mouth to object, to tell her it’s been too long, but the look in her eyes stops him. Slowly, he stands up, takes a final drink of his wine, and then walks over to sit down on the piano stool next to her. Gently opening the lid, he places his fingers on the keys.

“What do you want to hear?” he asks.

“Anything,” Nat replies softly. “As long as you enjoy playing it.”

Nodding, Bucky lets his fingertips drag over the keys for a moment, thinking his options through. Then he settles on one and plays the first note.

He hasn’t played “Claire de Lune” in ages, but he’s played it so often and for so many years that the chords come to him without any noticeable effort. Moving his fingers, he allows his focus to melt away and make room for the muscle memory in his hands and arms, moving them to the beats of his own pulse.

Natasha doesn’t say anything and Bucky doesn’t look at her. For the first time, her presence isn’t the most important thing in the room. The music is. He plays the entire song, all six minutes of it, and Natasha never moves, never speaks. She listens in silence, fingers deftly cupping the glass in her hand, while her eyes trace the movement of his.

As the final chord of the song chimes out, Bucky allows his fingers to rest on the keys for a few seconds longer before dropping them into his lap. For a moment, everything is silent. Then he feels Natasha’s hands upon his shoulder.

“That was beautiful,” she whispers reverently.

“Thank you.” Bucky looks up and sees the wet shine in her eyes. “Are you alright?”

“Yes,” Nat assures him. “I just wish I could play something like that. Or anything for that matter.”

“I’m sure you can. With a little practice.”

Natasha shakes her head. “No,” she says, sniffing as a tiny laugh escapes her mouth while she wipes at her eye. “I’ve tried several instruments, but they’ve all been too hard for me.”

“I could teach you to play, if you want?”

Natasha laughs. “Maybe,” she says. Then she lets go of his shoulder and turns around to set her glass down on top of the coffee table. “But first we have a play to rehearse.”

“Right.” Bucky moves to close the piano lid, but is stopped by Nat’s voice from behind him.

“Keep it open,” she says. “I’d love to hear you play some more later, if there’s time.”

“Alright.” Obediently, he leaves the lid where it is and stands up to join her. “Guess it’s time for me to become Mr. Douchebag again, huh?”

“Are you referring to John or Justin?” Natasha asks with a suspicious squint.

“I’m gonna let you be the judge of that,” Bucky retorts. “But the way I see it, there’s no reason it can’t be both.”

“You’re horrible,” Nat accuses, although she doesn’t sound or look like she means it.

“That makes two of us then.” He returns to the couch and flops down on it with a sigh. “So,” he says, rubbing his hands together. “Scene seven, was it?”

 

/\/\/\

 

Bucky spends the rest of the weekend in an indecently good mood. Everything feels so bright and effortless, warm and joyful. It’s the kind of mood that makes you want to turn your stereo up and sing your heart out while dancing around your kitchen with a spatula for a microphone. Giddiness, in its purest form. And Bucky’s relishing it.

He doesn’t tell anyone, though. Come Monday, it takes all he has to put on a mask of normalcy instead of the goofy grin he’s been sporting since Friday evening.

He’s not sure what to expect when it comes to Nat, but he tells himself that if she says nothing to him about it, then he’ll be fine with that. He doesn’t need her to confirm that they spent time together, one-on-one, drinking wine in his apartment.

At least, not until Natasha actually walks into the green room and gives him one of those bright, bubbly smiles, asking him if he’s played any more piano since Friday. That’s when he realizes that if she hadn’t given him any acknowledgement, it would’ve most likely ruined his entire day.

He really should’ve known that whatever was going to ruin his day, it wasn’t going to be Nat.

He’s just finished helping Peter and Wanda hang a new backdrop and is heading back to the green room to fetch himself a well deserved cup of coffee when Justin appears behind a corner. Bucky decides to simply ignore him and keep on walking, but as he approaches, Justin stops, blocking his way. Sighing, Bucky slows down as well, preparing himself for the inevitable confrontation.

“Justin,” he greets. “How’re you doing?”

“Oh, cut the bullshit, Barnes.”

Raising his eyebrows at the unusually harsh reply, Bucky comes to a complete halt in the narrow hallway. “Wow,” he says calmly. “Did Starbucks mess up another order of your coffee today, or what?”

“You think you’re so fucking clever, don’t you?” Justin snaps back, and Bucky purses his lips, nodding.

“For the most part, yeah, I do,” he retorts. “Why, does my ability to think bother you?”

“You don’t think I know you’ve been talking to Fury about me?” Justin says, raising his voice. “Got my assistant flown in to baby me. What do you think I am, some sort of manchild who can’t take care of myself?

“Oh, you have no idea how many replies I have to that particular question,” Bucky says gleefully. “Wanna hear some?”

“I would watch myself if I were you,” Justin warns grimly, stepping closer. “You don’t wanna end up on my bad side.”

“Well, I’m sure you’re right,” Bucky agrees. He makes a move to walk past him, to leave this ridiculous discussion, whatever it’s about, behind. But Justin steps in front of him, this time almost shoving him backwards as he does so.

“Stay in your lane, Barnes,” he spits out. “You’re still just a stagehand. Just because Natasha’s bending over backwards to please you, that doesn’t make you indispensable.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Bucky tries, but once again, Justin puffs his chest up, turning even more agitated.

“I don’t know what’s going on between you two,” he hisses. “And I don’t know why she’s so eager to have her tongue up your ass, but it changes nothing.”

“Don’t talk about her like that,” Bucky cautions grimly.

“Why not?” Justin retorts. “Because you’re fucking her? Because you think you’re the first loser she’s ever sucked off?”

“I said,” Bucky repeats slowly, “ _don’t talk about her like that.”_

“Or what?” Justin mocks. “You’ll punch me? C’mon, do it. I’ve got a lawyer who hasn’t been fed in a while, and you’d be a perfect snack.”

“You know what, Justin,” Bucky says, suddenly exhausted. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to get out of this and I don’t want to fight. Just let me pass, man.”

“And I’m asking you,” Justin insists, “ _or what?_ ”

Bucky would like nothing more than to right-hook this son of a bitch, right here in the hallway. But he forces himself to think about what Fury told him, and what could happen to the theater if Justin and his starving pack of lawyers decides to go after more than just Bucky.

So Bucky doesn’t take the swing. Even though he wants to. He just presses himself past Justin, deliberately bumping into his shoulder as he does. It’s not a sucker punch, but it’s better than nothing. Better than acting like he’s not fuming on the inside.

He has to remain calm.

For the theater’s sake.

For the sake of his friends.

 

/\/\/\

 

“I need you to play the piano again.”

Bucky holds up his chopsticks as Natasha takes a seat on the couch next to him, patiently waiting for him to finish chewing. The green room is nearly empty apart from the two of them and Bruce, who’s tinkering away on his laptop in the corner.  

“Come again?” Bucky asks once he’s swallowed his food.

“The duet,” Natasha clarifies. “The one between John and Jane. I want to practise it.”

“Sure, but… I don’t have the sheet music.”

“Oh, well lucky you then,” Nat says, whipping out a bundle of papers from behind her back with a triumphant smile, “because I do.”

“My, my, who would’ve known?” Bucky teases, only to get the bundle slapped against his chest.

“Tonight,” Nat declares firmly. “Your place. We take the shortcut, like last time.”

“Whatever you say, your Highness.”

“Stop it,” Nat scolds. “I’m no more royalty than you are.”

“Is that an insult or a compliment?”

“I’ll let you decide.”

“How generous of you,” Bucky mumbles, and gets slapped with the sheet music once again. This time he takes it, mostly to ensure that he can’t get whooped with it again. “You wanna go Pretty Woman again?” he asks. “Or have you picked out a different wig this time?”

“Nah, I like the blonde one. It brings out the rosy color of my lips.”

“Oh.” Bucky quickly stops himself from licking his own lips as his gaze immediately goes to Nat’s mouth. “Yeah, I, uh… I guess it does.”

“You sound hesitant.”

“No,” Bucky promises. “No, I agree, the blonde does look good on you. I just… I mean, you know I like your red hair better. I’ve told you that.”

“Yes, you have,” Nat muses, standing back up. Why she sounds so pleased, Bucky doesn’t know. “I’ll meet you by the back door after rehearsal.”

“Sounds good.”

“Don’t be late,” she cautions over her shoulder, walking away from him.

“Never,” Bucky quips back, and Nat makes finger guns his way before rounding the corner, leaving him with his half-eaten box of noodles.

It takes a minute or so, but eventually the full context of what just happened dawns on him. Nat wants to come over to his apartment. Again.

Sure, sure, it’s just for the show, of course, but… There’s a piano right here at the theater. They could’ve rehearsed the duet as soon as lunch break was over, but she requested—no, decided—that she’d rather be at his place.

His pulse quickens at the thought, even though he knows he shouldn’t let it. But that hope he’s been nursing ever since he first spoke to her kindles like glowing embers in the wind, and man, he’s so over his head, but he doesn’t care. Because Nat wants to spend time with him alone.

The hours that are left before it’s time to leave for the day take forever, and Bucky spends the entire time trying to focus on his job rather than what’s gonna happen afterward. Then, just like that, he’s standing outside in the alley with Natasha by his side. She’s back in the wig and flat cap, looking just as enthusiastic as she had the last time, and the sight of her makes Bucky’s heart swell with warmth. Even more so when she takes the lead, walking two feet in front of him all the way to his apartment, looking over her shoulder every now and then with a smile to make sure he’s still with her. They don’t talk much, the underlying urge for secrecy still too strong.

Once inside, however, Nat gives out a loud sigh as she pulls the wig off her head, ruffling her own locks out. “God, I hate wigs,” she complains. “They always itch.”

“Even the fancy ones?” Bucky asks.

“Yeah, even the fancy ones. They put nets and caps on to prevent it, but after an entire day on set, something always ends up skewed and wonky as hell.”

“Sounds like some of the outfits my mom made me wear when I was a kid,” Bucky jokes.

“Ouch,” Nat says with a grimace. “That sounds unpleasant.”

“It was,” Bucky promises. Following her into the apartment, he clears his throat while gesturing to the kitchen. “I don’t think wine and singing mixes all that well,” he admits, “but I still have coffee or tea if you’d like some?”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Nat says with a rueful shake of her head at him. “For singing and talking you have water. Everything else gets to wait until _after_ the curtain call.”

“That so, huh?” He shrugs, throwing his arms out. “Well, my taps are your taps, my Lady. Knock yourself out.”

“Thank you, kind Sir,” Nat replies with a curtsy, holding up a pretend dress with her pinky flexed.

While Nat pulls her water bottle out of her bag to fill it up, Bucky arranges the sheet music on the piano. The melody is fairly simple, and the chords interchange smoothly. Since he’s also heard it being played about five times today alone, figuring it out shouldn’t be much of a problem.   

They play it through once, slowly, piece by piece, and Nat tells him which parts he needs to play differently for it to work with her half of the harmony. It’s a duet, but seeing as Justin’s not there, Nat’s the only one singing. Then, after a few adjustments, they play it once more in full.

Nat’s voice, just like everything about her, is astonishing. It’s clear and soft, without so much as a hint of sway in pitch, leaving Bucky in awe. How can she complain about not knowing how to play such a clumsy instrument as a piano when she already possesses a voice like _that?_

“That was amazing,” he tells her once the song has ended, and to his surprise, Natasha bashfully lowers her eyes to the floor.

“Thanks,” she says. “I must admit, musical numbers always make me a lot more nervous than the acting does.”

“How come?”

“Well, with acting there’s always improv,” Nat explains. “And the only ones who know you screwed up are your fellow actors, but most of the time they also know how to improvise and get the scene back on track. With singing… I mean, if you mess that up, there’s no way to hide it. Especially if it’s a piece that people already know.”

“I get what you mean,” Bucky agrees. “Singing makes me nervous as hell too.”

“You’ve performed before?” she asks.

“If singing a few Christmas carols in elementary school counts,” Bucky says with a snort.

“So you’ve never been on stage? Like, at the theater?”

“Nope,” Bucky replies, looking down at the keys of the piano. “Never had the nerve.”

He looks up, seeing Nat gnaw on her lower lip. Then she moves in and squeezes herself down onto the piano stool by Bucky’s side, making him move to make room for her.

“Sing with me,” she says.

Bucky stares at her. “No way.”

“Why not?” Nat asks.

“Because…” Bucky starts, searching for the words. “Because you sing like an angel, and… I sound like a crow with pneumonia at best.”

“Oh, c’mon, it can’t be that bad? Just try it.”

“I’d ruin it,” Bucky assures her. “Trust me.”

“Then how about this,” Nat says, putting a hand on his arm. “If you sing with me, I’ll play the piano for you.”

“I thought you said you couldn’t play?”

“I guess you’ll just have to teach me.” When Bucky hesitates, she tilts her head, leaning in to nearly bump her forehead against his. “Believe me, whatever disaster you think your singing voice is, it’s got nothing on my lack of piano skills.”

“So…” Bucky says slowly. “Tit for tat then? One catastrophe in exchange for another?”

“Sounds fair.” Nat straightens up, giving his arm another light slap before removing it. “C’mon. One more time, together.”

Bucky hesitates, but then begins to play the song over again. Nat sings the first verse, bridge, and chorus, and Bucky steels himself as he draws breath to join in with his own solo. The first ten-or-so words come out smaller and more timid than he would’ve liked them, his voice held back by the tightness that’s squeezing his lungs. Trying to ignore the burning sensation of Nat’s arms and legs pressing against his, he puts some more effort into it. Finally, his chest expands like he wants it to and lets the air in for him to sing as he would have had he been alone.

When Nat joins him for the harmony of the second chorus, even he has to admit that they sound pretty damn good. Their voices weave together, forming a whole, and the sound of it makes Bucky want to keep singing, just to keep this overwhelming sense of unity alive for just a little while longer. But sadly, the song isn’t very long to begin with, and soon enough, the notes of the piano chime out and fade, leaving them both in silence.

“Well, I don’t know why you felt like you needed to practice that any more,” Bucky says quietly. “You sound amazing.”

“Says you,” Nat answers softly. “You sing like you’ve been doing it your entire life.”

“Well… technically, I have,” Bucky says. “Me and my mom... Music was a big part of our relationship. She taught me how to sing, to play, how to read notes, how to write them. To hear the music inside your head just by seeing it on a piece of paper.”

“And she clearly succeeded,” Nat points out. “You could have a serious future in musical theater should you want it.”

“Maybe,” Bucky admits. “I’ve never really wanted to be onstage, you know? All those eyes on me, without being able to look back at them. It scares me, I guess.”

“It scares everyone,” Nat says. Once again her hand finds its way to Bucky’s shoulder, gentle and warm. “That’s why we’re taught to ignore the audience altogether. To envision the famous fourth wall in their place.”

“If we can’t see them, they can’t see us, right?” Bucky asks.

“Sorta,” Nat says, nodding. “Point is, everyone’s scared to put themselves through such exposure. It’s only natural. But if you really want to act, I don’t think you should let that fear stop you.”

“I mean, it sounds smart,” Bucky agrees. “But it doesn’t really matter, because… to tell you the truth, I’ve always wanted to be the guy writing the shows. Not acting in them.”

“You wanna become a playwright?” Nat asks.

“Playwright, composer… anything that lets me create without performing myself.”

“It’s a shame,” Nat says with a sad smile. “You have a face meant for the movies and a voice meant for the stage. Hiding yourself away in the shadows seems like a waste to me.”

“If there’s no one to write the plays,” Bucky counters, “then what good is it being an actor?”

“Touché…” Nat mumbles. She glances at him, and bumps her upper body into his. “So? Have you written anything yet?”

“Yeah, but it’s nothing serious,” Bucky tries. “It’s just something I’ve been tinkering with for fun.”

“What, and that automatically makes it bad?” Nat counters.

“No,” Bucky says. “Not bad, but… it’s probably not what someone with your experience would consider to be great either.”

“I don’t believe you,” Nat says defiantly. “And I bet if I take that script to some people I know they will agree with me.”

Bucky scoffs, straightening up to send her a doubtful look. “You haven’t even _read_ it.”

“And you haven’t let anyone give you their opinion, have you?” Nat shoots back. “So let me do it. Let me read your script, and I promise you I will give my complete professional and honest assessment.”

“You sure you want to do that?” Bucky asks. “I mean, do you have the time?”

“I’ll make time,” Nat deadpans. She holds out her hand, waiting for him to take it. “So, are you in?”

Bucky looks at her hand, and then grasps it firmly. “I just hope I’m not about to make a fool of myself.” Releasing her hand he points to the piano. “Now, to your end of the bargain. What song do you want to play?”

“I want to learn that song you played for me last time.”

“What, “Claire de Lune”?”

“If that’s what it’s called, yeah.”

“Alright…” Gently, Bucky takes hold of Nat’s hands and puts them on the keys. “Here. Your index finger goes here, your middle finger here, and your thumb right there…” Once Nat’s fingers are in position, Bucky presses them down, one by one, slowly playing the first set of notes of the intro to “Claire de Lune”.

“See?” he says under his breath. “That’s all there is to it. Then you just play it again.” Nat’s fingers begin to move under his, this time without him having to apply any pressure or guidance. “There you go,” he encourages.

“Pretty good for a musical disaster, huh?” Nat muses, turning towards him.

“I’ve heard better,” Bucky retorts, and Natasha laughs at the joke while their hands continue to play. Her hands are warm beneath his, and as Bucky turns his head to look at her, their gazes meet. She’s still smiling at him, but as he watches, the smile begins to change. It grows distant, as if Nat’s thoughts briefly disappear somewhere else. Slowly, her fingers stop moving, and the piano keys fade into a white noise inside Bucky’s head as Nat’s gaze becomes hooded as it drops to his mouth.

He licks his lips, and the action is like a glass shattering in the silence.

Nat blinks and jumps, and Bucky quickly removes his hands when she pulls them back from the piano keys. He clears his throat, looking away as Nat tucks a lock of her hair behind her ear.

“We, um… we should probably try the duet one more time,” she suggests.

“Right,” Bucky agrees. “Of course.” He puts his fingers back in position, but he doesn’t have the courage to look at her. His heart is pounding and his hands are on the verge of shaking. “From the top?” he asks.

“Yeah,” Nat agrees. “That sounds good.”

Bucky nods, but just as he’s about to start playing Nat puts her hand over his. When he glances up, the look she gives him is wide and sincere.

“You’ll sing with me, right?” she asks.

“If you want me to,” Bucky replies hoarsely. In return, Nat smiles at him, but it’s a different smile this time. Shy. Almost timid.

“I do.”

That’s all she says, but it’s enough to make the tension drop from Bucky’s shoulders. “Alright,” he says, smiling back at her before pushing the first key down.

 

/\/\/\

The days pass, but Nat doesn’t ask to come back to Bucky’s apartment again. It’s a bit disappointing; not that Bucky in any way had assumed that her coming to his apartment would be a regular occurrence, but he would be lying to himself if he said he hadn’t been hoping for it.

She’s not ignoring him, however, and he supposes he should be happy about that at the very least. They still spend a lot of time together, although with opening night of the play drawing closer, she has to spend more time rehearsing with the rest of the cast.

Justin’s still being an asshole, like always, and Bucky feels genuinely sorry for the guy’s assistant who gets to take responsibility for everything Justin doesn’t deem good enough.

That said, the closer to the finish line they get, the more ridiculous, demanding, and downright rude Justin becomes. Every scene has to be performed according to his standards, whether it’s in the script or not. Coulson tries to talk some sense into him several times, with varying results. It’s becoming clear that Justin’s narcissistic behaviour is getting out of hand, and the rest of the crew and actors are getting seriously fed up. Even Steve, who’s normally so collected and calm, needs to remove himself from the auditorium after one of Justin’s tantrums, presumably to avoid punching the guy in the face.

Bucky knows that Tony, among others, has been up in Fury’s office twice the past week alone to address the situation, but so far, they’ve all returned with the same information that Bucky had been given before. The actors are not the responsibility of the theater itself, and therefore Fury can’t do anything but ask Coulson to keep Justin under control.

Coulson, as far as Bucky’s aware, is a highly respected and dedicated writer and director. He knows a lot of people in the theater world, but he doesn’t make a big deal out of it. Bucky suspects that that’s how he had managed to gather all these big names for a charity production like this. So far Coulson’s been keeping to directing the actors—as is his job, of course—and struggling to keep Justin in line, but it is obvious that he would like to keep Justin happy rather than angry. Which, needless to say, isn’t very happy news for the rest of the company.

Sam, Steve, and Barton can take care of themselves, mostly because Justin’s low key scared of them all. Maria and Jane only have a single scene with Justin, so they get away more or less unscathed, but what really makes Bucky’s knuckles itch is the way Justin speaks to Nat.

The criticism is never-ending. Every day it’s something new. She’s too close, too far away, doesn’t speak loudly enough, speaks _too_ loudly… Coulson has to remind Justin several times that it isn’t his job to direct, but Justin appears to forget that every other minute.

Three days before opening night, however, Justin oversteps his boundaries.

They’re halfway through the final scene and Natasha is mid-monologue when Justin suddenly gives a loud, exhausted groan while tipping his head back to the ceiling.

“Jesus Christ, Romanoff, we _talked_ about this!”

“I’m not going off-book just because you think it’s better that way,” Natasha shots back, breaking character with a glare the instant Justin speaks. “And Coulson told _you_ to stop interrupting the scene.”

“Guys, please,” Coulson tries from the third row, his head already resting in his hands.

“So you’re saying you’d rather have her butcher this role than try out the alternatives?” Justin barks.

“Justin, that’s enough,” Coulson replies, and for the first time, Bucky actually hears a bit of steel in the man’s voice. “Places, again. And this time Natasha reads by the book until I say stop, is that understood?”

“Oh, c’mon!”

“I asked you a question, Justin.”

“No, you gave me an order,” Justin argues heatedly.

“Justin—”

“No!” Justin’s voice rings throughout the auditorium with a force that makes the other people onstage jump. “I’ve had enough of this bullshit!”

From stage left, Bucky looks on as Justin picks up a glass from a nearby table and throws it onto the stage, making it shatter into a million pieces.

“You think you know acting better than I do?” Justin asks, pointing an accusing finger at Coulson, who’s now standing up in his seat. “Huh? You think you’re some kind of hotshot director just because you happened to befriend the right people? You think you got this gig because of _talent?_ ”

“Hammer,” Sam’s voice comes rumbling from stage right, and Bucky looks over just in time to see both him and Steve step forward, tall, wide, and terrifyingly solid in their appearance.

“You two stay out of this!” Justin spits out. His eyes are wild, and something in them makes Bucky take a step forward as well.

“Justin,” Natasha says firmly. “Please, calm down.”

“Shut the fuck up, Natasha!”

“ _Excuse_ me?”

“Justin, stop it,” Coulson says, slightly softer than before, but still with that same sense of authority. “There’s no need to use that kind of language. We can work this out, just tell me where all this is coming from.”

“Where it’s coming from? How about the fact that you lot treat me like I’m some kind of amateur, while _this_ cunt,” he points at Natasha, “is allowed to waltz around the stage like she owns the damn place!”

Instantly, Bucky sees red. His feet are moving before he’s even aware of it, and the next thing he knows he’s shoving Justin square in the chest and watching him stumble backward.

“Apologize!” Bucky growls, ignoring the fact that Steve’s now got him by the arm, holding him back. There’s commotion all around him. Coulson is moving towards the stage, jumping the seats with surprising ease, and behind him he hears Natasha call out his name, calling him back.

“What the fuck is _your_ problem?” Justin sneers as he wobbles to regain his balance.

“Apologize!” Bucky repeats, louder, feeling Steve’s grip on him tighten. It grounds him slightly, because damn, the man might make a living by playing pretend, but those muscles are anything but fake.

“Oh, shove it, Barnes,” Justin quips. “You lay another finger on me and I’ll make sure you’ll never work in a theater again.”

By now, Coulson has reached the stage, placing himself between them both. The volume of their argument has also drawn a crowd out from behind the wings. Bucky catches sight of both Tony and Thor in his peripheral vision, and Maria’s slowly moving over to stand by Nat’s side.

Bucky’s still glaring at Justin, his hands curled into fists. He’s physically trembling, and his entire body feels like a live wire. Apparently it shows, because Justin looks to where Steve’s fingers curl around Bucky’s bicep, and immediately his face splits into a mocking grin.

“What, you wanna take a swing at me, is that it?” he asks cockily. “You think she’ll finally put out if you knock me down, huh?”

“Justin,” Steve cautions. “Stop talking.”

“Why?” Justin retorts. “There’s nothing he can do about it, anyway.” He stretches his arms out wide, taking a step closer to Bucky. “You wanna have a go, tough guy?”

“No one wants to fight you, you idiot,” Nat snaps from over Bucky’s shoulder as she steps up. “We just want to do our jobs.”

“Really? Does your job by any chance include sucking up to this loser? ‘Cause that’s what you’ve been doing now for a month and a half.”

“Justin,” Coulson says gravely as he moves to maintain his position between them. “I really think you should head backstage and take a break.”

“Nah, let’s see what this guy’s got first.” Justin locks eyes with Bucky and beckons him closer with his hands. “C’mon, gimme your best shot. Or are you too scared?”

“Don’t listen to him, Buck,” Steve hisses. “He’s just baiting you.”

“You don’t think I know that?” Bucky mutters back.

“Hammer, back off, _now,_ ” Coulson orders. This time, Justin actually acknowledges him by moving his gaze from Bucky to Coulson. Then his posture relaxes, and he holds both hands up in surrender.

“Fine,” he says. He emphasizes his intentions by keeping his hands up, and after a few seconds, Coulson relaxes as well.

“Fine,” he echoes. Bucky can feel Steve’s grip loosen, and he turns his head, already seeking out Nat’s gaze. He’s barely done so before he hears movement from in front of him and several people shouting out a warning.

He whips his head around just in time to see Justin’s fist come flying towards his face. Catching a glimpse of Coulson, who’s already moving in a failed attempt to intercept it, Bucky tugs his left arm free from Steve’s hand to shield himself.

He’s not quick enough, and the punch lands square on his jaw, accompanied by several horrified gasps from around them. It’s a clumsy blow, but it’s got all of Justin’s body weight behind it, so it still hurts. However, Justin’s off balance, and compared to Bucky he’s not much of a physical threat to begin with. And now, Bucky’s seriously pissed off.

It’s not the first time Bucky’s been in a fight, but it’s without a doubt the first time he actually _wants_ to be. And he doesn’t waste his chance. He ducks away, barely avoiding the second jab already aimed for his head. Shouldering Justin’s arms aside, Bucky plants his own fist into Justin’s stomach. Justin doubles over, gasping for breath, and Bucky uses his right hand to land a punch square in the middle of Justin’s face. Justin turns, trying to avoid it, and as a result there’s a crack that Bucky can feel all the way in his wrist when Justin’s nose breaks.

Justin’s shout of pain comes out as a squeal as he grasps around his broken nose, blood already staining the front of his shirt in blotches. “What the hell!” he yells. “You broke my fucking nose, you psychopath!”

“Are you serious?!” Maria yells. “You punched him first!”

“You…” Justin pants, glaring at Bucky. “I’m gonna get you. My lawyers are chew you up and spit you out on the pavement. You’ll have nothing left when they’re done with you!”

“Shut up, Hammer,” Sam says sternly. “The whole room saw you throw the first punch.”

“While Bucky had his head turned, no less,” Nat chimes in. “Sue all you want, but you’ve got no case.”

“He broke my nose!” Justin wails.

“In self defense,” Steve says calmly. “We all saw it.”

“Self defence?!” Justin squawks. He stares at them, although his gaze is slightly unsteady as he wobbles backward. “I’ll sue you,” he threatens. “This whole place… All of you…”

For a moment Bucky blanches, but Steve looks as unfazed as ever.

“Go ahead,” he says. “If you think your legal council can outshine all of ours…” He gestures widely to the room. “Then you’re welcome. We’ll sue back, and you can kiss your career goodbye.”

Justin blinks, and some of the haze clears from his eyes as the reality of the situation dawns on him.

“The play,” he hisses, changing his tactics. “You need me.”

“In fact, I don’t think we do,” Coulson says. Instantly, all the eyes in the room turn to him, and Coulson straightens up, squaring his shoulders. “You’re cut,” he announces grimly. “Pack your things and leave. I don’t want to see your face here again.”

“You can’t cut me!” Justin yells nasally. “I’m the fucking _lead!_ ”

“No,” Coulson retorts. “You _were_ the lead.”

“My lawyers—”

“Will find that I have the right to fire whomever I want,” Coulson interrupts. “There are no documents or contracts for you to refer to in a lawsuit other than the one where you signed up to work under my lead. I’m in charge, and this is me, officially kicking you out.”

Everything’s quiet as the seconds tick by. In a vague state of disconnection, Bucky wonders how the current scene would look from the audience’s point of view. Justin on one end of the stage, with everyone else gathered in a crooked half circle on the other. Coulson in the middle, with Bucky, Steve, and Nat just behind him, illuminated by the spotlights above.

Justin swallows as his gaze darts between them, seeking support but finding none. Everyone’s had enough, and when Bucky feels Nat’s slender fingers gently wrap around his wrist, he knows that they’ve won.

“You won’t get away with this,” Justin tries, a final, desperate attempt to save face.

“Out,” Coulson says.

It’s over. Bucky watches Justin send him a contemptuous glare before straightening up. Adjusting his suit and wiping off his nose, Justin gives Coulson a curt nod. Then he turns and walks away.

As the door to the lobby closes shut behind him, the entire room breathes out a collectively held breath.

“Jesus…” Nat mumbles, and without thinking about it, Bucky turns around and wraps his arms around her in a hug.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“I’m fine,” Nat replies, moving her head back to look at him. “But I’m not the one who got punched in the face.”

“It barely grazed me.”

“Are you alright buddy?” Steve asks while coming up to them. “That was quite a hit.”

“Nah, that guy’s only good at throwing punches when they’re fake,” Bucky says. Then he grimaces, running his fingers gingerly over his jaw. “But he’s got some pointy knuckles.”

“Just glad you’re okay.”

“Oh god,” Coulson suddenly mumbles from behind their backs. “What did I just do?”

“Hey, Phil,” Sam says. “You alright there, man?”

“I just ruined the entire project.” Coulson looks at them, his eyes pleading. “I fired the male lead.”

“C’mon, just calm down,” Sam says while gently grabbing around Coulson’s shoulder. “We’ve got backups, right? Stand-ins?”

“We do. But they’re not fully rehearsed yet, and there’s no way they’ll be ready before opening night.” With a deep sigh, Coulson shrugs Sam’s hand off and goes to sit on one of the chairs positioned on the stage. “We’re gonna have to push back opening. There’s no other way.”

“What if we help out with the rehearsal?” Jane cuts in. “Work extra hours. Get them settled.”

“No, there’s not enough time,” Steve says slowly. He looks around, and now the expression on his face has dropped slightly as well. “Even if we find someone, opening night is in two days. To ask someone to learn a full script in that time isn’t fair, to the actor or the audience.”

“We could post his lines on the set,” Maria suggests. “On the floor, the back of chairs, props…”

“Then what about the music?” Coulson says. “Whoever we find must be able to learn the song, the dancing, and the— It’s just not gonna work.”

Bucky ducks his head. Suddenly, the triumph of finally giving Justin what he deserved fades away as the guilt comes flooding in. If he hadn’t continued the fight, Justin might have settled with just going home for the day. Now they’re here, and the whole play is ruined because he couldn’t keep his temper in check.

The others are still discussing possible solutions and Bucky’s just about ready to go hide himself with his shame somewhere backstage when Nat gives his sleeve a light tug.

“You could do it,” she whispers.

“What?”

“The lead role,” she clarifies, still whispering. “You could play it.”

“No, I can’t,” Bucky whispers back.

“Sure you can. You already know the lines and the song. You just need to learn the blocking and choreography. If we work together, we can do it.”

“I’m not an actor,” Bucky objects.

“But you could be,” Nat says, this time grabbing for his hand. “Just this once.”

Bucky gnaws on his bottom lip, glancing over to where Sam and Maria are gesturing to the stage and Coulson is rubbing at his temples with a look of despair on his face.

“You really think it would work?” he asks under his breath. “I mean… people are expecting a famous actor. Not me.”

“People are expecting a charity performance,” Nat corrects. “And you’re _good_. Better than a lot of established actors I’ve worked with in the past. You just need to believe in yourself.”

“But what if I screw it up?”

“Then I’ll play along,” Nat promises. “It’s called improvisation, and as long as you’re aware it might happen, it’s really not that hard.” She squeezes his hand gently. “I’ll be right there. You can do this.”

It’s terrifying. The mere thought is enough to make him break out into a cold sweat, but… It’s also the only way for him to redeem the trouble he’s caused. He looks at Nat, and her eyes are warm and safe, an instant balm to his nerves.

“Alright,” he says. Then he turns to Coulson. “Hey,” he calls out over the discussion still taking place. “Hey, guys, I— I’ll do it.”

It’s just like that scene from _Lord of the Rings_ ; the one during the council of Elrond where Frodo takes on the mission to deliver the One Ring to Mount Doom. All conversation just dies down, and he knows that everyone’s looking at him. A feeling he supposes he should get used to…

“You know the role?” Coulson asks.

“Yes,” Nat confirms. “He’s been reading lines with me since the beginning.”

“And the song?”

Bucky nods. “I haven’t rehearsed the blocking or the choreography for the dance, but… I think I’ll be able to work that out.”

“We’ll help you,” Steve promises solemnly. “All of us.”

“I don’t know about you, Cap,” Sam scoffs, “but I ain’t teaching the guy to dance.”

“No,” Nat agrees, smiling up at Bucky. “I’ll be doing that.”

Coulson nods, seemingly thinking it over. Then he looks at Bucky. “If you think you can get ready on time, then do it.”

“I’ll do my best, sir. I’ll talk to Fury about rehearsing after hours. I already have a key, so it shouldn’t be a problem.”

“Perfect,” Coulson says. already sounding happier than he has all week as he points at Nat. “Romanoff, I trust you to help whip this guy into shape.”

“Don’t worry,” she assures him back. “I’m all over it.”

“Well then.” Coulson claps his hands together, looking around the group. “Places, everyone. We’ve got a show to finish.”

 

/\/\/\

 

The other actors keep their word, and by the end of the day, Bucky’s feeling a lot more confident about taking Justin’s place in the show. He has a sneaking suspicion that the others are also relieved to not have a loose canon like Hammer around to make things difficult anymore, and that alone makes Bucky feel as though he’s been able to contribute to something good.

Seeing as the premiere is only two days away, he and Nat decide to make the most of it and stay behind for some extra hours of rehearsing that same evening.

Bucky’s never been much of a dancer, at least not compared to the kind of dancing you see on TV or online. His mother taught him how to foxtrot, and even a little bit of Lindy Hop from back in the day, but since that’s not the kind of dancing they’re going to be doing in the show, that knowledge doesn’t help him much.

The play only has one song, from which the melody is repeated on several occasions throughout the performance, with varying speeds and styles depending on the scene being played. In one of those scenes, the tempo of the song has been modified into a modern-esque tango, and that is the dance that Natasha is now trying to teach him.

They’re just basic steps, and Nat’s made a few changes to the choreography with Coulson’s approval to make it even easier for Bucky to learn. But he still keeps messing it up.

“Goddammit,” he hisses, pulling away from Nat at the last second before he can step on her toes once again.

“It’s okay,” Nat says. “We’ll try again.”

“I’m the worst dancer in history!” Bucky complains loudly. His voice bounces off the walls of the empty auditorium, disappearing in the darkness above the seats.

“You’re not,” Nat says firmly. “Have you seen Steve dance?”

“No.”

“Then you don’t get a say.”

“He’s that bad?” Bucky asks as Nat takes hold of his hands again.

“So far, there’s not a single role in his filmography where he has danced. Or at least where you can see that it’s _him_ doing the actual dancing, if that tells you anything.”

“Ah.” Bucky leaves it at that, and instead tries to focus on the steps as Nat leads him into the dance once more.

“So when you get here,” she says, “you make a lunge to the right so that I can fit my feet between yours.”

“Alright…” Bucky says, staring down at their shoes to memorize the positions and make sure he doesn’t screw up again.

“Then you dip me before we make the turn, I’ll do the kick-up-my-skirt thing, and then we do a two-step walk to the side before facing each other and doing it all again. Only backwards.”

“Only backwards…” Bucky echoes.

“And then,” Nat continues, pulling away, “I do my underarm turn, like this…” She demonstrates by stepping away, doing a slow turn with her hand still in Bucky’s. “And then you spin me inwards, until you’re holding your arm around my midsection.”

“Like this?” Bucky asks, pulling her in, and she obediently follows until her back is to his chest with his arm wrapped around her waist, as she described.

“Just like this,” Nat approves.

“Wow,” Bucky breathes… “If I get this right in front of an audience, we’ll be _so_ lucky.”

“Stop,” Nat orders, sticking a reprimanding finger in front of his face. “None of that attitude, remember? You promised.”

“I didn’t think you were gonna hold me to it,” Bucky says indignantly.

“Hey, a promise is a promise.” Gracefully, she twirls out of his grip, returning them to their start position. “One more time. You can do it. Focus.”

Bucky feigns a deep sigh and rolls his eyes at the ceiling. Then he steadies his grip on Nat’s hand and begins to lead.

They dance across the stage. Slowly, Bucky leads Natasha in and out of the turns, dipping her backwards gently before pulling her back up. They both know the melody, and Bucky can hear Nat hum under her breath in time with their steps. She twirls, stretching her arms out wide, and Bucky tugs her back. His pulse quickens when he puts his arm around her, feeling her body press against his. She’s warm, and he can smell the scent of almonds and argan oil from her hair when it whips past his face mid-spin.

Coming to a halt center stage, Nat leans her head back against his shoulder and looks up at him.  

He kisses her.

She kisses him back.

His heart bangs so hard against his ribcage he feels like it’s about to break through it, and he sucks in a sharp breath through his nose as he feels her hand come up to cup the back of his head. Turning her around to face him fully, he runs his free hand up her back, over her shoulders, and lets his fingers slip into her hair to feel the soft curls twirl around the digits. He nips at her lip and she gasps, chasing his mouth when he moves back to breathe. It’s amazing. It’s insane.

Suddenly Nat pulls away, and when Bucky goes to kiss her again, he realizes that she’s not participating anymore.

“What’s wrong?” he asks breathlessly.

“I— I don’t… This is a bad idea.”

“What?” Bucky can feel her remove her hand from his neck, and he grasps it, desperate to keep it. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to… I mean, I did, but I didn’t want you to—”

“Bucky,” Nat says. “You’re a nice guy. More than nice, really, you’re… You’re great, I mean that, but…”

“But?” Bucky repeats numbly as his heart promptly drops to the pit of his stomach.

“We’re colleagues,” Nat tries to explain. “We work together, and I— I just can’t do that.”

“But we’re not,” Bucky argues. “I’m not a real actor, and I don’t want to be one. I want to be with you.”

“You don’t even know me,” Nat objects. Her hand slips away from his as she steps backwards. “Not the real me.”

“Yes, I do.” He can feel the burn behind his eyelids, the rejection harsh and scolding. “And even if I don’t know everything yet, I know enough to make me want to give it a proper chance.”

“Bucky…”

“Don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” Nat replies. But she doesn’t sound happy.

“Then what is it? What did I do wrong?”

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Nat says, and her voice cracks as she pulls her hair back from her face. “Okay? You did nothing wrong.”

“But then why—”

“I—I’m sorry,” Nat murmurs while taking another step back. “I’m sorry, I can’t talk about this right now…”

“Nat…”

“I’ll see you tomorrow, okay? Please, Bucky,” she says when he opens his mouth to object again. “I really can’t.”

She doesn’t look at him as she hurries off the stage, and Bucky doesn’t make any attempt to chase after her. He watches her go in silence. As the door slams shut behind her, the silence that follows makes Bucky wish the stage would simply open up beneath his feet and swallow him whole.


	3. Chapter 3

[ ](http://imgbox.com/JGZ98RKz)

Bucky doesn’t sleep much that night. He lies awake, staring at the ceiling while the dread pools in his stomach about the next morning. The sun has already begun to rise when he finally manages to get some shuteye, but it’s only a couple of hours.

The time to get up arrives, whether he wants it to or not. He skips breakfast—he’s not hungry—but at least he doubles up on the coffee before leaving his apartment.

His feet are heavy, trudging down the sidewalk, and his head is fuzzy from the lack of sleep. When he rounds the corner to the theater, the group of photographers flocking around the front door doesn’t exactly improve his mood.  

He expects them they pay him no heed as he walks through the gate. Just a civilian heading to work. No one special. Not someone who’d be found interesting by anyone famous. But that’s not what happens. As he approaches, one of the photographers spots him, and the next thing he knows, all hell breaks loose. Flashes are going off, people are yelling questions in his ears, and he just barely manages to reach the door to the theater without having someone tear his jacket off.

The doors open before he can reach them, and Wanda positively yanks him inside before slamming the door shut behind them both.

“Oh my god, Bucky, are you okay?”

“Yeah,” Bucky pants. “I’m fine, I—”

“How stupid are you?” Wanda continues, cutting him off. “Why would you go in through the front door like that?”

“What?”

Bucky looks on as Wanda hauls out a magazine from her bag and shoves it in his chest. “You’re all over the front page, you idiot,” she scolds, although with less heat than before. Still in shock, Bucky looks down on the magazine in his hands, staring at the grainy picture of himself with an increasingly confused look.

“Romanoff’s Mystery Man?” he reads out loud. “What are they talking about?”

“Some shutterbug managed to get a shot of Natasha leaving the theater yesterday. And of you, leaving shortly after.”

“But why would they—?”

“It was after hours,” Wanda says with a shrug. “And apparently, Nat looked upset. That’s all these leeches need to make a headline.”

Bucky sighs, handing the magazine back to her. “Great…” he mutters.

“So, what happened?” Wanda asks. “I mean, did you guys fight?”

“No,” Bucky replies tiredly. “No, we didn’t fight, we— Listen, I really need to talk to her, is she here yet?”

“Not yet,” Wanda says sadly.

“Well, if you see her, tell her I’m looking for her, alright?”

“Will do,” Wanda promises. She looks like she’d like to say something more, but Bucky moves on before she can, heading towards the auditorium.

Inside, the mood is deceivingly casual. Everyone’s talking, laughing, getting ready for the day’s work, but Bucky can see the way they look at him when he walks in. He sees it because nobody is willing to meet his gaze for long. The atmosphere is tense, and Bucky wishes more than ever that things could go back to how they were last week. Before the world went to shit.

He makes his way backstage, taking the hallway towards the green room. Maybe Nat’s there? She knows of the backdoor, she could’ve phoned someone to help let her in that way.

He rounds the corner and comes face to face with Steve, nearly crashing into him as they pass each other in the doorway.

“Morning,” Steve greets, but stops himself when he sees the look on Bucky’s face. “Woah, what’s up? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

“What, you haven’t read the news?” Bucky asks sarcastically. “I had to fight my way just to get in here.”

“Ah yeah, the photo brigade,” Steve says dryly. “I take it they didn’t exactly go easy on you out there?”

“Not exactly.”

Waiting for Steve to drop the topic and move on, Bucky glances through the doorway in search for Nat, but with no luck. When he turns back around, however, Steve is staring at him intently, so topic obviously not dropped.

“What happened?” Steve’s asks flatly. He doesn’t sound angry, but something in his voice demands answers.

“It was nothing,” Bucky starts. “We just…” He looks around the room again, more so that he doesn’t have to look at Steve. “I don’t know, man, it all went so fast.”

“What went fast?” Steve demands. “Is Nat okay?”

“I—I think so,” Bucky replies. “I mean, she just left, she—” He grabs for his hair, tugging at it to ground himself and keep his thoughts from spiraling into a panic. “I don’t know.”  

“Buck,” Steve says, softer this time as both his hands grip gently around the curve of Bucky’s shoulders. “What happened?”

“I kissed her,” Bucky blurts out, and when Steve freezes in front of him, he continues, “I mean, she kissed me back, everything was fine, and then— Like I said, I don’t know. She just changed her mind.”

Steve sighs, straightening up. “I’m sorry, man,” he says. “Really, I am.”

“I just don’t know what I did wrong,” Bucky confides. “She even said she wanted me back, but that she couldn’t because we were coworkers. I— I just don’t get it. And we still have a show to put on, and I’m not even sure if she wants to look at me now.”

“It’s gonna be fine,” Steve promises. Gently, he tugs Bucky aside, pulling him away from the doorway and into the green room. “Nat’s a professional, she can deal with it.”

“But what if I can’t?” Bucky retorts grimly. “Then I will have ruined everything, twice.”

“Listen, you haven’t ruined anything,” Steve says. “You’ve helped out more than you think with this project, and everyone’s happy you’re here with us. This thing between Nat and you… I know it’s not my place to presume, but maybe she just needs time? Give her space, and things will work out.”

“And if it doesn’t?”

“Then life moves on,” Steve says matter-of-factly.

“You don’t sound like you believe that.”

“Maybe I don’t,” Steve retorts. “But what kind of a friend would I be if I told you that?” Once again, he squeezes Bucky’s shoulders. “Give it time, Buck. Nat will come around. This is scary for her too you know.”

Bucky nods quietly. Then he inhales deeply, closes his eyes, and lets the breath go. “Alright,” he says. “Alright, I’ll wait. I’ll… stay professional, and I won’t push her for answers.”

“That’s the spirit,” Steve says. He gives Bucky’s shoulders an encouraging slap, then lets him go. “C’mon. Let’s go get ready. There’s still a lot of work to do.”

 

/\/\/\

 

An hour later—much later than normal—Nat does show up, but she doesn’t approach him. For a brief moment their eyes meet from across the stage when she enters, but Nat quickly looks away, and Bucky does the same. No pushing. Just like he said.

But it doesn’t work.

Nat doesn’t speak to him other than during their scenes, and as soon as they’re over, she excuses herself to some other part of the stage. Bucky lets her go, but his heart aches every time he’s forced to see her turn away. Like she’s fire and he’s the water threatening to end her.

The whole gossip magazine thing has naturally spread throughout the entire company, and every time Bucky goes to have a scene with Nat, he can’t help but feel that everyone’s whispering about them in the background. And he’s convinced that Nat feels it too.

Even Coulson can see that something’s wrong. The spark that had been there yesterday is nowhere to be found.

They don’t even rehearse together, and Bucky is forced to practice his choreography with Wanda, while Sam and Steve act as directors for him.

Wanda, who had cornered Bucky shortly after his conversation with Steve,  knows what’s going on, and after a few moments of consideration Bucky decides to tell Sam about the situation as well.

“So, you were, like, going at it,” Sam says slowly. “And then she just… ran out?”

“No,” Bucky objects, spinning Wanda out and pulling her back in where they dance a few feet away. “She said that I was amazing, and that she wanted to be with me. _Then_ she ran out.”

“Wow,” Sam says, whistling under his breath. “That sounds a bit… contradicting, doesn’t it?”

“She got scared,” Steve says wisely. “Getting a kiss is nerve wracking enough as it is, even more so when there’s an entire press conference waiting outside to interrogate you about it.”

“Then why hasn’t she talked to me yet?” Bucky asks while dipping Wanda down.

“Well, why haven’t you talked to her?” Wanda shoots back, allowing herself to be pulled back up.

“I’m giving her space.”

“Why?”

Bucky shoots Steve a helpless look and Steve clears his throat.

“If she got scared, she might need some time to process things,” he provides helpfully. “Figure out what she wants to do.”

“And you think ignoring her is going to tip the scales in Bucky’s favor?”

“She’s the one who’s been ignoring me,” Bucky objects.

“No,” Wanda says firmly, stopping mid-step. “Steve said it just now, she’s _scared._ ”

“Well, so am I,” Bucky argues, and actually backs away when Wanda’s reply is to glare at him.

“Then tell me,” she says. “What exactly is it that you’re afraid of?”

“I— I’m scared that she doesn’t want me,” Bucky answers with a stutter. “That we might have a chance at something great and she won’t even want to try.”

“Okay,” Wanda says. “And what do you think she’s afraid of?”

Bucky blinks. That was not the question he had been expecting, and Wanda rolls her eyes at him, sighing with frustration.

“This is your _life_ we’re talking about,” she says sternly. “And she knows that. She lives under scrutiny every single day. Everything she does, whether it’s eating a salad at a diner, or getting drunk off her ass at the Oscars, the press is monitoring every single step she takes. Vultures, waiting for a fresh carcass to clean out for the public’s amusement. Did it ever occur to you that the reason she is hesitating is because she’s scared about how that part of her life will affect _you?_ ”

Again, Bucky only blinks. That thought hadn’t been anywhere near his mind. But now, when he hears it being said out loud, it makes more sense than anything he _has_ been thinking about. While he stands there, gaping, Wanda sighs again, shaking her head.

“Boys,” she murmurs. “If you hadn’t assumed the situation from the start, you wouldn’t be here scratching your heads, wondering why your tactics aren’t working.”

“So what should he do then?” Sam asks. “Chase her down? Smack her over the head with a wooden stick and drag her back to his cave by the hair?”

“Not exactly,” Wanda says pointedly. “But he could start by showing her that he’s not afraid of the thing _she_ thinks he is.”

“And how do I do that?” Bucky asks slowly.

“Talk to her, stupid,” Wanda says. “Let her know whether or not you’re ready to go down that road with her. And if there are things that bother you, or that you don’t know how to deal with, ask her. You can’t have a relationship if you can’t _talk_ to each other.”

Bucky glances at Steve and Steve purses his lips, nodding back. “It’s actually a good piece of advice,” he says.

“Of course it is,” Wanda quips back.

“But when?” Bucky asks. “She won’t even look at me properly onstage, and afterwards she just runs away.”

“To protect you,” Wanda reminds him. “Remember, if she thinks she’s doing this for your own good and you don’t prove her wrong, then you’re going to lose her.”

“I just have no idea what to say.”

“Just be honest,” Sam says. “I think that’s the only rule you need to stick to.”

“Wow, that easy, huh?” Bucky mutters.

“He’s right, though.” Wanda reaches for Bucky’s wrist and rubs her thumb over the back of his hand. “If you just tell her how you feel, then the rest is up to her. You can’t do more than that, but you’re not gonna get any answers by hiding back here with us.”

Bucky looks at her, and then reaches his hand around to clasp around hers. “Thank you,” he says.

“Don’t mention it,” she replies. Lifting their joined hands up, she places her other hand on his shoulder while shaking her hair back. “Now, tango with me, Romeo. Show us what you’ve got.”

 

/\/\/\

 

That night is their dress rehearsal. Normally, Bucky would be standing by in the wings, getting ready to hand the actors their props, get their costumes changed, or move in new set pieces. But not today. Today he’s onstage, and he’s more nervous than he’s ever been for a show. Not because he’s onstage—he suspects that shock isn’t going to hit him until opening night tomorrow, but because of what’s going to happen afterwards.

During the day they have their tech run through, and he tries to put on his best performance for it. He plays the part, and Nat does the same. He tries to catch her eye a couple of times, and every now and then he thinks he sees her glancing his way as well. Could be wishful thinking, of course, but he doesn’t allow himself to linger on that.

They run through the entire play; wardrobe changes, song, dance, and all. After that, it’s time for lunch before going doing it all over again.

Bucky brought lunch, but as the others begin to file away towards the green room, Bucky notices that Natasha is heading towards the door with Maria and Jane. He freezes, hesitates, and then turns to follow.

He catches up to them in the lobby, just as they’re heading outside to the parking lot, and all three turn around when they hear footsteps approach behind them. Maria and Jane appear mildly amused to see him, but Nat’s eyes reveal nothing about her thoughts. Her posture goes rigid, however, and her jaw sets when she sees him. It doesn’t exactly do anything to help soothe his nerves, but it’s too late to turn back now.

“Hello ladies,” he greets them politely, before turning towards Nat. “Can I talk to you for a second, please?”

“Sure,” Jane says, ignoring that the question was aimed for Natasha.

“We’ll wait in the car,” Maria adds cheerfully. Nat looks like she’s about to object, but both Maria and Jane are already walking away. There’s a temporary cacophony of voices coming from outside as the door opens and the reporters begin to shout at the two actresses for attention, but it fades to a muffled murmur when the door clicks shut once more.

Bucky watches Natasha’s gaze flicker between her friends and the people armed with cameras that are standing outside, and he gently reaches out and gives her a light tap on the arm.

“You wanna head over there and talk?” he asks, pointing to the other end of the lobby.

She looks over at the cameras again, most of which are now in the air. “You don’t wanna go back inside the theater?” she asks.

“Not for my sake,” Bucky replies easily. Nat frowns, as if his answer is cause for suspicion, but when Bucky doesn’t move or say anything else, she sighs, nodding.

“Alright,” she says as she leisurely begins to walk in the appointed direction. “So what do you wanna talk about?”

“To be honest, I think you already know,” Bucky replies. He glances at her. “But I can say it if you want?”

“Bucky…”

“No, it’s alright,” he assures her. “I’m comfortable saying it.”

“Listen, I know you expected something else,” Nat says, before lowering her voice slightly. “And I don’t blame you, I mean… You kissed me, and I didn’t stop you, and— I messed up.”

“No, you didn’t.”

“Yes, I did,” Nat insists. “I ran away, and didn’t explain myself. You deserved better than that.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t get it,” Bucky says, moving in front of her to stop her from walking. “I’m sorry I forgot that you and I come from such different ways of everyday life. _I_ messed up, not you.”

“But that’s it, isn’t it?” Nat asks. Her face is sad, and her eyes are pleading. “We’re too different. My life, it’s… it’s chaos. Work, travels, press. It’s nothing like yours. And you don’t want to be part of all that, trust me.”

“According to the news, I already am,” Bucky points out. When Nat ducks her head down with a low whine, he steps closer, bending his head down as well. “I know you’re trying to spare me from all the nasty things that come with being a celebrity. I know, and I get it. But I don’t care about that. I don’t care about the press, or traveling, or what you do for a living.”

“Yeah, now you don’t,” Nat objects grimly, lifting her head back up to look him in the eye. “But what about a few months from now? Or a year from now, when your life’s story has gotten dug up and turned inside out for the world to see? When all the dirty little secrets you didn’t even know you had have been plastered over every tabloid in the nation for entertainment. What about then?”

“I know that it’s hard to believe,” Bucky assures her. “I genuinely don’t care what the press makes up, as long as I get to be with you. For however long you want me.” He pauses. “Because… I mean, _if_ you still want me?”

“Of course I do,” Nat whispers. “But it’s just not that, it’s— Jesus, it’s the same thing all over again! Some lowlife with a camera spots me talking to a man they don’t know of, so _of course_ that means I have to be fucking him! Selling lies, that’s all they care about! And once it’s out, it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not, because it’s going to follow you for the rest of your life.”

“But this—”

“I’m still known as ‘Justin Hammer’s ex’,” Nat says sharply, cutting him off. “Even though there was never any confirmation that we were even together to begin with. But someone else decided that it was true, so _I’m_ stuck with it!”

“I’m not saying you’re wrong,” Bucky objects softly while brushing his fingertips against hers. “What I was going to say is that this is different. You’re not being forced into anything this time. The choice is yours.”

“You say that,” Nat mumbles. Her eyes are glossy, but the tears in her voice are just barely audible. “But is it really?”

“Yes,” Bucky says. “Of course it is.”

Nat sniffs, taking a deep breath through her nose as she turns her head to the ceiling above them. “I told myself I’d never date a colleague,” she says.

“We’re only temporary colleagues,” Bucky argues. “And after the show is done, we won’t even be working in the same place anymore. Or city, for that matter.”

“Exactly,” Nat says. “We’d never see each other. We’d be alone. And you’d get bored of me never being there, so what’s the point?”

Bucky hesitates, looking at her. “Did someone else get bored of you?” he asks softly. The way Nat quickly turns her eyes away with the faintest of tremble to her lips is answer enough.

“Nat,” Bucky whispers. “I could never get bored of you. Not of you, or your job. That’s not how a relationship works. You know I’d never do any of this if I didn’t think I could handle it.”

Nat turns her head towards the doors, and her face grows even sadder as she watches the flashes of the cameras go off. “And what about them?” she asks sadly. “Can you handle them as well?”

“They’re paparazzi,” Bucky says calmly. “Their stuff only sells as long as they’re news.”

“What about when they’re fake?” Nat counters. “When they start spreading lies about me, and you have to read about some ridiculous affair I’ve supposedly been having with a coworker on the other side of the world? Could you handle it then? Because you’d be the first.”   

Bucky looks at her and takes a proper hold of her hand. When she doesn’t shake him off, he steps closer, tugging her in.

“Whatever happens,” he says, “I promise that I’ll put my faith in you first. Press and paparazzi don’t know us, and they certainly don’t know _you._ I trust you, Nat. Besides,” he continues, “things that aren’t considered secret aren’t worth the effort for vultures like them. The more you reveal to the public yourself, the less they get paid. And they’re greedy bastards.”

There’s silence while Nat turns her gaze to the floor by their feet. Bucky waits, and the longer it takes for Nat to reply, the more nervous he gets.

“Maybe you’re right,” Nat says eventually. She lets go of his hand, but instead of turning around and walking away like he fears she’ll do, she reaches into her purse. He looks on as she takes out her phone, and then she puts her arm around his back and pulls him in next to her.

“Smile,” she says, holding the phone up. Bucky does as he’s told, even though he doesn’t understand, and Nat snaps a selfie of them with a digital shutter sound. However, at the very second the camera goes off, Nat turns her head and presses a swift kiss to Bucky’s cheek.

“What was that for?” Bucky asks, both confused, happy, and a little bit hopeful.

“This,” Nat replies. She sounds happier now, but with her face turned away Bucky can’t see if she looks the part as well. She’s fiddling with her phone, and her thumbs are tapping across the little keyboard with fast, precise movements. Then she holds the screen up for him to see.

It’s an instagram post, and the picture looking back at Bucky is the one Nat just took. At first, he’s not quite sure what he’s seeing, and then his eyes land on the caption below it:

 _‘Happiness is working with amazing people’_ , followed by a heart emoji.

It makes the hope inside Bucky flicker. It must show, because when he turns his head to her, Nat looks him straight in the eye and says, “We still work together.”

“Right,” Bucky mumbles.

“But who knows,” Nat says, putting the phone away. “This time, next week, maybe the caption will say something different.”

It’s not an outright promise, but Bucky’s entire being is reacting as if it is. His lips part in a goofy grin that he can’t stop, and when he sees Nat smile back, his stomach flips with joy.

“Can I come over to your place?” Nat asks suddenly. “Tonight? After the show?”

“Come over?” Bucky echoes dumbly. “Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure, absolutely.”

“Okay.” Nat replies. She points with her thumb outside towards the car where Maria and Janet are already waiting. “I should get going. Us girls get cranky when we don’t get our food.”

“Hey, I’m the same way,” Bucky assures her. “But I agree, I wouldn’t want you cranky when I accidentally step on your toes later. You might kill me.”

“Shut up, you’re doing fine,” Nat quips, walking backwards to the doors. “Now go eat. I don’t want a cranky dance partner either.”

Bucky laughs, shaking his head, and waves Nat goodbye as she leaves the theater and gets in the car. He doesn’t wait for it to drive away before heading back inside the auditorium, because he can feel himself ready to burst at the seams already. He gets inside, and the moment the door clicks shut behind him, he throws both his fists up in the air with a loud whoop.

He might’ve done a small victory dance as well, but there’s no way he’ll ever confess that to anyone.

/\/\/\

 

Bucky is positive that he’s checked himself in the mirror about 30 times in the past 15 minutes.

He’s alone in his apartment. Nat had left the theater after the show to discuss a few work related issues with her manager, but she had told him that she’d stop by as soon as she was done.

After returning home, Bucky had first considered picking out some fancier clothes than the ones he’d normally wear, but the more he thought about it the more stupid it had seemed. He hadn’t wanted to wear the same clothes that he had during work however—even though he barely used them since he’d been in costume most of the time—but he’s still not sure if his new pick had been the right one.

He’s wearing jeans, ordinary dark blue Lee’s, and a dark grey t-shirt. Nothing special. Completely ordinary, nothing wrong with it at all. And yet, he keeps wondering if maybe he should’ve picked something else.

He had considered cleaning his apartment too, but remembered pretty much right away that it would be pointless. Nat’s been here before, she knows what it looks like. He does, however, clear the dirty dishes in the sink, and he picks up a few dirty pieces of clothing from his couch. Then he goes back to the mirror and continues to second guess his looks. He’s busy running his fingers through his hair, _again,_ when the doorbell rings.

It makes him jump, he’s so tense, but he gathers himself and quickly straightens up. Taking a deep, grounding breath, he opens the door.

Nat’s not wearing the blonde wig or the flat cap. Those were both safely stored back in the theater’s wardrobe room. Her red hair glows against the dark green wrap dress she’s wearing where she stands in his doorway. The fabric looks like some kind of velvet, but Bucky can’t tell for sure.

“Hey,” he says hoarsely. She probably can’t even hear him. “Come in.” She does so, stepping past him as Bucky leans forward to close the door behind her. “You look nice,” he offers.

“You too,” Nat replies.

Bucky turns around to face her, racking his mind for some other clichéd pleasantry for him to utilize. He even manages to come up with a decent ice breaker, but doesn’t get a chance to use it.

The moment he turns his head, Nat’s already cupping his jaw with her hands, and Bucky’s surprised noise gets muffled by the firm press of Natasha’s lips. He stumbles backwards, his back bumping against the closed door, and Nat follows. Half in shock, Bucky grasps around her waist with both hands, groaning when Natasha continues to press herself against his body.

His mind is spinning with a million questions, each one slowly getting wiped from existence with each eager shift of Nat’s lips. He’s kissing back—of course he’s kissing back—but he has no real handle of how he’s doing it. There’s no control, not like there had been back at the theater. This is raw and exposed in a completely different way, and it’s equally as scary as it is exhilarating.

In an attempt to gain back some sort of leverage, Bucky nips at Nat’s lower lip. Her response is to immediately grab for his left hand and tug it downward. Letting his palm cup around her ass, Bucky’s chest feels so tight he can barely draw breath, and when Nat continues to push his hand downwards while hooking her one leg around his, Bucky produces a sound he wasn’t even aware he could make.

“Here…” Nat breathes, hoisting up her skirt. Before he can react, Bucky feels lace brush against his fingertips, and then there’s only warm, wet heat when she pushes his fingers past the trim of her underwear.

Bucky gasps for breath, and the back of his head bangs against the door as he throws it back, eyes squeezing closed. His erection is pressing against the zipper of his jeans, but not so uncomfortably that he’s prepared to stop what he’s doing to fix it.

Nat’s still kissing him, but when he gives an experimental press of his fingers, she drops her mouth to the side of his neck with a low whine.

“Please,” she pants, rocking her pelvis forward, pushing his fingers deeper. “I don’t wanna wait anymore.”

“Jesus Christ…” Bucky gasps.

“Bedroom,” Nat whispers eagerly.

“Alright,” Bucky says. “Alright…” He straightens up from where he’s slumped against the door, and slowly removes his hand from underneath Nat’s skirt. Putting Nat’s leg back down, he kisses her one more time, a desperate mash of lips, just to make sure this is actually happening before grabbing Nat by the hand to lead her down the hallway.

Once inside his bedroom he fumbles for the light switch, and manages to find it on the third try while still holding onto Nat’s hand. He turns back around to kiss her, but to his surprise, she brings both her hands up and pushes him away. Bucky staggers backwards, unsure of what’s going on. He watches her toss her purse on the bed, and how she slowly reaches for the sash of her dress, making the air catch in his throat.

He watches in silence, mouth agape, as she undoes the knot by her waist and lets the wrap of her dress slowly unfold until the fabric slides off her shoulders to fall, whispering to the floor.

Bucky struggles to swallow but his mouth has run too dry. Nat stands before him, wearing only a pair of black, lace lingerie. No bra, just the panties, and the way she just stands there, staring him down, makes his entire body sweat.

She starts walking towards him, the light from the ceiling leaving nothing to the imagination as she reaches out and grabs him by the shoulder. She pushes him backwards and Bucky allows himself to be pushed, landing on the bed sprawled out on his back. He watches in an awed daze how Nat gracefully drops her panties as she climbs into the bed after him, straddling him across the hips with the most alluring smile on her face. She leans down and kisses him deeply, making him shudder with how her tongue slips past the seam of his lips.

He can feel the firm press of her breasts through the fabric of his shirt, and the sensation burns its way through his nerve endings like wildfire. His hands shake as he lifts them to reverently run his fingers along the curve of her back. Her skin is soft, and the few locks of hair that fall over her shoulder as she tilts her head to deepen the kiss tickles his neck.

She’s rocking down over him, and he groans into their kiss when the arousal shoots through his abdomen, twisting it with pleasure. Feeling his cock twitch, he reaches down and feels for the fly of his jeans. He only has time to pop the button, however, before Nat’s tugging at the hem of his t-shirt, and he’s forced to abandon his works to lift his arms up. He goes with the pull, sitting up slightly to allow Nat to drag his shirt over and off his head, and then watches her toss it aside with a delicate flick of her wrist. She’s still smiling when she leans in to kiss at his neck, and goosebumps chase down the length of Bucky’s arms when she gives the lobe of his ear a teasing tug with her teeth.

As Bucky goes to rid himself off his jeans once more, Nat lifts herself up to make room for his hands between her legs. The warm skin of her inner thighs brush against his knuckles while he works, and god, his hands are still shaking.

Somehow, he gets the jeans open, and he begins to shimmy out of them, tugging them down over his hips. It’s enough to save him from the discomfort, even though his cock still strains against the fabric of his underwear. Moaning helplessly, he then has to steady himself against the mattress when Nat takes a firm hold of his cheek and licks up his neck in a single, greedy swipe of her tongue. With her other hand she reaches down, and Bucky’s body gives a violent twitch when she grabs around him through his boxer briefs.

She covers his moans in kisses, rewarding every breathless gasp with a smile that she presses against his mouth, his cheeks, his neck. Each one a curse and a blessing, because even though he wishes for her attention elsewhere, he also doesn’t want this to end.

Nat isn’t stroking him fully, just squeezing and dragging her fingers in a lazy path over the clothed ridge of his cock, up and down, over and over, while he chases after the friction with the uneven rocking of his lower body. He nearly forgets that she has one hand left, right up until he feels it slip away from his jaw, down his neck and clavicle, until the pad of her thumb finds his nipple and begins to tease it in languid circles that makes him whine against her mouth.

“You into that, huh?” she asks, and Bucky doesn’t need to see her to know that she’s smirking.

“Apparently,” he replies shakily.

Nat giggles and gives his nipple a light pinch before bringing her hand down to where the other is still touching him, and Bucky lets out a low sigh of relief as she finally frees him from the confines of his underwear by easing the elastic band down.

“Give me my purse,” she orders, and Bucky fumbles blindly over the bedspread in search of said purse until he finally manages to find it. Nat takes it, using one hand to rummage around while jerking him off, close to nonchalantly. It shouldn’t be turning him on as much as it does, but he’s not about to waste time trying to figure out why.

Nat makes a pleased noise when she finds what she’s looking for, and Bucky looks on as she pulls out a condom pack, abandoning his erection in favor of tearing the foil square open.

“I can do that,” he offers, but Nat just sends him a look and pulls the condom out to roll it down over the head of his cock. Once she’s done, she pulls the elastic band of his underwear down even further, and straddles him anew.

As she does, Bucky wraps his arms around the small of Nat’s back while also wrapping his lips around her right nipple. She moans, throwing her head back. Grabbing around the back of his head, she keeping him in place, panting hard as he sucks at her breast, allowing him to let his tongue play with the rapidly hardening flesh in his mouth. The sound of her voice makes his head spin, and he slowly rolls his hips upward, craving to hear more of it. Nat is so wet, he can feel the slick with every thrust he makes, each touch making her press closer, until he can feel her body open up for him.

It’s not the first time Bucky’s had sex, but damn him, with the way Nat feels around him, it might as well could’ve been. Her sex is warm, wet, and he sinks into it with a groan and a shudder. He looks up when Nat’s hands grab around the top of his shoulders as she slowly lifts herself up, her eyes seeking out his gaze, keeping his focus on her as she begins to move.

They find a rhythm close to effortlessly, and the way Nat crowds herself against his body is a keepsake, a safe haven for him to cherish. He feels Nat’s fingers brush the nape of his neck in passing before she shifts her grip and runs them along his scalp and up through his hair. Bucky leans into the touch and moans when she tightens her grasp, hearing her respond in kind when he cups one of her breasts in his hand.

Slowly, he leans back, and Nat slips her hands out of his hair and onto his chest to brace herself as he lies down fully on the bed. She doesn’t stop moving, and her body rolls down over his in waves. The pleasure is disorienting, and he grabs around Nat’s hips with his free hand, grounding himself in the feel of her skin against his palm. Then, he smoothes his hand up and cups her other breast as well, flicking both thumbs over her nipples and rolling them softly.

The touch has her mewling in the back of her throat as the movement of her hips grows erratic for a moment and Bucky smiles.

“ _You_ into that?” he asks teasingly.

Nat gives a breathy laugh that quickly breaks into another moan. “Apparently,” she replies, licking her lips before moaning again, louder. “Go faster. I need it faster…”

Bucky is happy to comply with that request, and when he picks up the pace Nat nods eagerly as her mouth falls open again. “Harder,” she gasps, and Bucky nods his approval while doing as he’s told.

He continues to play with her nipples, altering between rolling, squeezing, and even twisting them while he fucks into her, making her moan and writhe, fingers curling against his chest. There’s a fine sheen of sweat forming over her skin, catching the light and making her glow. It’s like she’s on fire; her hair being the flame, burning him alive with the passion she awakes in him.

“You’re so beautiful…” he whispers. He sees her lift her head, her eyes half-lidded and hazy as she looks at him. She opens her mouth like she’s about to respond, but no words come out. Without thinking, Bucky lets go of her breast to cup her face, putting his other hand on her hip to steady her when she slumps forward. Nat’s the one doing most of the work now, but Bucky’s heart is pounding so fast he can barely draw breath.

“Close,” Nat gasps, and when Bucky nods, she adds a breathless, “Come with me.”

Bucky’s hand reaches into Nat’s hair and she moans, eyelids fluttering. Her lips are swollen, slick with saliva. Her fingernails are digging into his skin, her hips rolling faster and faster, her breathing going ragged. Bucky can feel himself losing the little control he has over himself watching her get closer. They’re racing towards the edge, and Bucky can’t tear his eyes away. Then, just like that, they’re there, and Bucky’s gaze whites out when the tidal wave crashes into him from the inside out.

Nat moans, and her voice rips its way through Bucky’s gut, searing his body with pleasure. Through the euphoria, he feels her movement slow, little by little, and how her hair comes down to pool over his chest and shoulder when she slowly sags down over him.

Bucky doesn’t know how long they lie there, but when he comes to, he’s slowly stroking his hands over Nat’s back, feeling her body rise and fall with her breathing. They stay like that for what feels like ages, until Nat suddenly presses her lips against his neck, humming.

“That was amazing,” she murmurs drowsily.

“Tell me about it,” Bucky replies, just as dazed. “I can’t feel my goddamn legs.”

“That makes two of us then,” Nat retorts.

“Is that why you’re still on top of me?”

“Maybe. You also happen to be very comfortable to lie on.”

“Thank you. You’re very comfortable to be laid on by.”

“Be still, my beating heart,” Nat says, her dramatic phrase falling apart with a wild giggle. “Such compliments, I cannot cope!”

Bucky laughs while wrapping his arms around her, pulling her into a tight hug before letting her go. She climbs off of him, standing up.

“I’ll be right back,” she says, and Bucky nods, following the sway of her naked hips as she walks out of the bedroom and down the hallway towards the bathroom. While she’s gone, Bucky quickly disposes of the condom, removing his jeans and underwear, and takes a moment to simply sprawl out naked on the bed, staring up at the ceiling.

Jesus, he can’t believe any of that just happened. And yet it did. All of it. Right here, in his apartment. He’s got to be the luckiest sonofabitch on the goddamn planet…

“What’s that face all about?” Nat asks from the door.

“I’m not sure,” Bucky confesses. He holds his arm out, and Nat graciously sinks down beside him, curling up against his side with her hand on his chest.

“Take a guess,” Nat prompts, and Bucky sighs, pursing his lips.

“I think,” he says slowly, “that it’s a mix between delirious happiness, extreme contentment, and utter disbelief.”

“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Nat mumbles. “I like it.”

“Me too,” Bucky agrees. He turns his head and looks at her where she’s resting her head at the dip between his chest and shoulder. “What about you? How do you feel?”

“Honestly, less scared than I thought I would.”

Bucky frowns. “Scared?”

“Yeah.” Nat turns over so that she’s lying more fully onto his arm, looking up. “I mean… Normally, I would be worried that this would somehow reach the press. Someone selling the story to the highest bidder. That there would be candid photos, or planted microphones…” She sighs, but smiles as she turns to look at him. “But not with you.”

“Well,” Bucky says. “It’s not like you gave me any hints of your intentions before you came to visit. I mean, shit, you nearly knocked me on my ass back there.”

“Sorry,” Nat laughs, burying her face against his chest. “I just— I mean, I didn’t want to make it an arrangement, you know? Like some sort of… I don’t know, business deal.”

“No, it’s fine, I get it.” Bucky rolls over so that he can get both arms around her, pulling her in. “You don’t have to explain yourself.”

“Thanks,” Nat replies. She snorts out a laugh. “It really was hot, though. The way you barely knew what to do with yourself.”

“Shut up,” Bucky quips. “I was attacked. Brutally and viciously. It’s going to take me weeks to process what happened. Months, even.”

“Yeah, you’re properly traumatized,” Nat agrees. She kisses his chin, and grins. “Good thing I’ve already planned a few sessions of exposure therapy for you in the near future.”

“Will it help me get better?” Bucky asks with feigned worry.

“Guess we’ll have to wait and see.” Smiling, Nat presses another kiss to his lower lip, and Bucky deepens it before pulling back.

“Speaking of the future,” he says. “What happens now?”

“Well,” Nat murmurs. “I promised myself I’d never date a fellow actor, and I intend to keep that promise.”

“I hate to burst your bubble,” Bucky comments slowly while gesturing to their naked bodies, “but you’re sorta too late for that.”

“This isn’t dating,” Nat says firmly. “This is… a fling.” Bucky immediately tenses up, but Nat gently puts her index finger to his mouth, shushing him. “However,” she continues. “After the run of this show, you won’t be an actor anymore. Just like you said.”

“So… after the run…?”

“I’ll be officially spoken for,” Nat finishes. “If that’s what you want?”

“If that’s what _I_ want?” Bucky repeats. “Are you serious?”

“I don’t want to assume—”

Bucky doesn’t let her finish. He kisses her, because there are no words big enough in his vocabulary to express the way he’s feeling at this exact moment. He kisses her until there’s no more air left in his lungs, and Nat is giggling and shoving at his shoulders to make him stop. He holds her, combing his fingers through her hair while she rests her head on his chest, listening to her even breathing until his vision grow dark with sleep. In a final act of drowsy awareness, he reaches for her hand, and sighs happily when he feels her fingers silently wrap around his in response.

 


	4. Chapter 4

[ ](http://imgbox.com/Wdl3ROE8)

The roar from the audience is nearly deafening. Bucky’s worked a lot of shows at this theater, and he knows what a standing ovation  _ normally _ sounds like. This, on the other hand, is ridiculous. The auditorium shouldn’t have the capacity to seat as many people as it would take to produce such a sound.

He and Nat take center stage while the other actors file on from the wings, grabbing each others’ hands in preparation for the curtain call. They bow, once, twice, three times, and then the curtain falls. They wait, listening to the clapping that doesn’t cease from the other side of the velvet drapes until they’re pulled up once more. Wanda brings them flowers, just a simple rose each, and then they bow again as the curtain falls for the final time. 

Coulson appears, congratulating them all on a show well done, but Bucky barely has the presence of mind to notice him. 

They did it. A full month of shows, and they nailed every single one of them, song, dance, and all. 

There’s laughter, slaps on shoulders, hugs, jokes, and a celebratory mood overall backstage while the audience begins to file out into the lobby. Thor is enthusiastically talking about the wrap party, and over in the corner Steve and Tony are talking—for once without arguing. They’re also standing extremely close to each other, which makes Bucky wonder if Nat’s prediction about them getting together had been correct.

Feeling a tug at his sleeve he turns around, finding Nat smiling back at him. She tugs again, giving a light throw of her head towards the hallway outside, and Bucky takes the hint. Discreetly, they sneak away, and Bucky follows as Nat leads the way to the dressing rooms. Once inside Nat’s, she closes the door, pulling out her cellphone.

“You ready to do this?” she asks.

“Already?” Bucky asks back. “I mean… I don’t mind, I just thought you’d want to wait until tomorrow or something?”

“Seeing as I plan to stay in bed all day tomorrow with you, I don’t think waiting until then would be a good idea,” Nat points out. “Besides, my makeup looks awesome right now, and I wanna exploit it while I can.”

Bucky snickers, stepping up to her and wrapping his arms around her waist. “As you wish.”

Nat smiles, lifting her phone up, and Bucky leans in and kisses her cheek while she snaps a picture. 

“How’d I look?” he asks, looking at the picture over her shoulder.

“Like you’re posing for an Instagram shot,” Nat replies simply, and Bucky huffs against her ear.

“Don’t be mean. Looking good while kissing is a new entry on my résumé.” 

“You’re doing fine,” Nat promises him. Her thumbs fly over the keypad of her phone as she edits the picture. “And you always look good, don’t be silly.”

“Thanks. I appreciate the compliment, but next to you I still think I look like a wonky vegetable. Like… Mr Potato Head’s less attractive cousin or something.”

“Are you fishing for a compliment?” Nat asks. “Because you sound like you are.”

“Maybe I’m fishing for a kiss?”

“How is convincing me that you look like a potato going to make me want to kiss you?”

“I don’t know. Luck?”

“Shut up and look at this,” Nat mutters, holding her phone up to show Bucky her work.

The picture looks nice. Corny, but still nice. The caption underneath reads:  _ ‘Thank you all for coming out tonight. Only by giving love can we get love in return, and you are all proof that a little goes a long way!’ _

“Isn’t that a bit too subtle for an announcement?” Bucky asks.

“Are you kidding?” Nat says smugly. “Two pictures of us kissing each other’s cheeks? In a month? With the word  _ love _ in the captions? The Internet is going to explode.”

“Did you tag me?”

“Yup. For whatever those three pictures of you from a year ago is worth in this context.”

“Hey, I’m just bringing a little bit of mystery,” Bucky objects, pulling her closer while smiling down at her. “It’s gonna be interesting to see how much the press nowadays can dig up on a guy who doesn’t care for social media.”

“You’ll be surprised,” Nat mutters. “But as long as you’re sure about doing this…”

“I am,” Bucky assures her. He leans in and kisses her forehead. “Without question. In fact, the more people who see that post the better in my opinion.”

“The Internet is a vicious place for private business,” Nat cautions. 

“Not as vicious as we are,” Bucky counters confidently. He smiles, and Nat leans up and kisses him. 

“Are you scared?” she whispers.

“Honestly? I’m terrified.”

“Great, then it’s not just me.” Natasha takes a deep breath, glancing at the phone in her hand. “We’ve got this, right?” she asks quietly. She sounds scared, but her heartbeat is steady against Bucky’s ribs. Determined.

“Yeah,” Bucky says softly. “We’ve got this.”

“Promise?”

Kissing her temple, Bucky rests his head against the top of Nat’s own. He’s nervous, but knowing that she’s there with him makes it easier.

“Promise,” he says. 

“Good,” Natasha breathes. 

Then she presses the post button.

[ ](https://images2.imgbox.com/3b/fa/s8qOX2iQ_o.jpg)


End file.
